


The Lady Is Mine

by ashavahishta



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Incest, Lingerie, M/M, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-16
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/pseuds/ashavahishta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe's spent his whole life struggling with the question of who he really is. When he begins to experiment with wearing women's underwear, he begins a long, difficult journey of self-discovery. Nick is by his side the whole time, but everything gets even more complicated when Nick realizes that he doesn't just want to help Joe feel like a girl; he wants Joe to be <i>his</i> girl. A tale of love, lust, lingerie, and learning how to be happy in your own skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It is HIGHLY recommended that you read the [extended author's note](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153838.html#cutid1) \- especially if you have limited understanding of the issues facing transgender or cross-dressing individuals. The a/n is my attempt to explain my inspiration for this fic, the research that has gone into it, and my own interpretation of said research.

 

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1)       [Masterpost](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153865.html)

 

 

**1995**

 

"Mom, can I have a cookie?" Joe asks, tugging at her skirt where she's standing at the kitchen counter. She smiles down at him, ruffling his baby soft hair.

"No, sweetie, it's nearly dinner time. You still watching Nicky for me?"

Joe nods solemnly, pointing to where a three year old Nick sits on the kitchen floor, papers spread out around him. "We're drawing pictures."

"Can I see one?"

Joe goes over to the spot on the floor, rummaging through the paper until he grabs one and brings it over. She inspects it carefully. "Okay, who's this?"

Joe pulls the paper down toward him, pointing a chubby finger at each of the figures. "That's you, that's Daddy, that's Kevin, me, and Nicky."

Mom frowns. "That's you?" She rests a fingertip on the figure Joe pointed out.

"Uh-huh."

"Honey, is this - is this a skirt?"

Joe nods, nothing showing on his face but earnestness as he blinks up at his mother.

"How come you've got a skirt on but your brothers have shorts?"

Joe shrugs. "I dunno. Just wanted it like that."

Mom takes a deep breath, brushing her curls out of her eyes and gathering her dress as she kneels to look him in the eye. "Joey, boys don't wear skirts, okay?"

"Why not?"

"It's just...it's just the way things are."

"Oh." Joe looks down at his drawing. "Did I do a bad picture, Mommy?"

"Oh no, no, darling. You just got a little confused, that's all. It's a beautiful picture. Just...can I keep it ? Can Mommy keep it?"

"Are you gonna put it on the fridge?"

"No, I'm going to keep it somewhere really special, okay? Just for me. We won't even tell your Dad or Kevin."

Joe's eyes widen. "Like a secret?"

"That's right."

"Okay."

She touches affectionately at his nose. "Okay. Can you put Nick in his chair for dinner?"

"Uh-huh." Joe turns to get Nicky, and misses the way his mother stares at the picture for a long moment before folding it carefully into her pocket.

 

 

 

 

**1996**

****

 

 ****  
"I'm gonna be Batman today!"

"Nuh-uh, Kevin, you always get Batman, I want Batman!"

"I call the fairy costume!"

Mandy wrinkles her nose. "Joe, you're not allowed to wear the fairy costume."

"Why?"

"Because you're a boy, silly."

Joe stamps his foot, bending into the trunk of dress-up clothes and pulling out Mandy's Fairy Princess costume. "It's just pretend, come on!"

Mandy frowns. "Alright. But we have to swap soon."

Joe gets himself into the purple [costume](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/bbfairyjoe.png), adding in the fake wings and a sparkly fairy wand for good measure. Batman and Mandy's witch have an epic battle using some foam swords while Joe watches on, ensconced in his 'prison' under the table. "Save me!" he calls out. When Kevin wins the battle, he pulls Joe out from under the table. "My lady," he says grandly.

"Thank you. I will grant you one wish."

"I want to be able to fly!"

Joe touches his wand to Kevin's head. "Okay, you can fly!"

"JOE!"

Joe looks up. "Hi, Dad! I'm giving Kevin magic powers!"

Dad smiles, but Joe thinks his face looks a little funny, like he feels sick or something.

"That's good, son. Did Kevin use the only boy costume?"

"Nope, I wanted to be the Princess today."

Dad's hand squeezes at Joe's shoulder a little hard. "Dad, ow."

"Sorry, Joey. Take that off, it's time to go."

Joe pouts. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, now, please."

"I was Batman." Kevin says helpfully.

"Dad, can we get a fairy princess costume too? I like Mandy's one."

"No." Dad says shortly as he helps Kevin pull his costume over his head.

"Why?"

"Because boys don't wear skirts."

 

 

**2000  
**

 

Joe begs for months before his parents finally give in and get him his Easy Bake Oven for Christmas. It's so awesome, he can make anything he wants whenever he wants, so long as he promises to clean up afterward. He likes planning little meals for everyone, making them sit down around the table while he serves up the cookie or muffin recipe of the day. Sometimes he even writes menus, decorating them for hours; careful handwriting and glued-on sparkles. Kevin and Nick love it because they get free food, and Mom likes to help him out while he cooks.

When Joe sets Kevin's special blue-frosted cupcake on his plate one day, Kevin takes a bite and smiles contemplatively at Joe. "You're not really like other boys, Joe."

Joe shrugs. This isn't exactly news. It's easy enough to see just comparing himself with Kevin. Kevin likes to play sports and run around with other boys and play video games. Joe likes all those things too, but he also likes cooking and writing in his diary (the password protected one with the flowers on it, another present he campaigned for) and helping Mom around the house. Joe's favourite colour is purple, not blue, like Kevin's; the first CD Joe bought was by Britney Spears and he still likes to put it on loud and dance around his bedroom. Joe doesn't really mind too much that he's not like everyone else. None of them really are, in their family, and Mom always tells them that it's okay to be different; it's what makes them special.

 

 

**2002  
**

 

Being in _La Boheme_ is one of the best periods of Joe's life. It's exciting and fun and loud and he gets to sing every night on a big stage with his friends. Even better than that is that sometimes, if Joe gets dropped off early, he gets to hang around backstage and watch everyone get ready. It's a madhouse, but Joe's little and good at keeping out of the way, so no one really notices the quiet eleven year old sitting in the corner of the bustling dressing rooms. He likes to watch the racks of bright clothes being wheeled past, the PAs with their fancy headsets talking to themselves, the dainty way the women cross their legs at their light-lined vanities. They're Joe's heroes, these women, and he's spellbound by their shiny hair and red lips, the nimble movement of their fingers as they apply their stage make-up.

Joe's favourite is a woman called Jessica who plays Musetta. She's tall and glamorous with long, luscious dark hair that falls down her shoulders in thick waves. She has this soaring, beautiful voice and the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. He ran into the back of her legs by accident once, on the way off-stage, and she'd smiled down at him and asked his name. Tonight, she catches him watching her in the mirror.

"Joe, baby, come over here."

Joe comes to stand at her vanity. She smiles warmly at him. "You all ready for tonight, Joey?"

Joe nods. "Just gotta get my costume on, and George wants one more run-through before curtain, but that's it."

She reaches for a pot of something shimmery and rubs her finger in it, smearing it over her eyelids in slow, careful movements. Joe watches her in the mirror, his hands clutching the edge of the vanity, and feels suddenly overwhelmed with feelings he can't put a name to. Later in life, he will know what they were: longing, envy, sadness.

When Jessica's finished with her make-up, she turns to him. "You want me to do your make-up?"

"Sure." Joe knows the drill by now, and closes his eyes as she sweeps a thick layer of foundation over his face. "You're so lucky," he murmurs as she dabs blush onto his cheekbones. "You get to wear such pretty clothes."

He can see the deep green of Musetta’s dress under Jess’s dressing gown; he reaches out and pets lightly at where the skirt of it is peeking out, the velvet warm under his stubby fingers.

"You wear pretty clothes too." Jessica responds.

"Not like yours. I can't."

"Why not?"

Joe looks down at his feet and repeats his father's words. "Boys don't wear skirts."

There's a long pause before Joe feels a fingertip under his chin, forcing him to look up at her from under the sweep of his eyelashes. Jess looks sad, her eyebrows drawn together and expression soft. "Oh, sweetie," she says. "Some boys do."

"Really?" Joe can't contain the hopeful tone of his voice. He's never heard of anything like that before.

"Yeah." She brushes her fingers through his hair, biting her lip. "It's, um, it's a little different, I guess. But there's nothing wrong with it, okay?"

Joe doesn't really understand how it _wouldn't_ be wrong, but he nods anyway. "Okay."

"Jessica! We need you in hair!"

Jessica startles and turns towards the PA. "I'll be there in a minute."

She turns back to Joe, cupping his face in her hand for a moment. "You're such a lovely little boy, Joe. You come back to me if you want to talk, alright?"

Joe shrugs. "Sure."

Jessica rises from the table and is hustled away. Joe takes a minute to feast his eyes on the vanity; its little jars of glittery makeup, its hairbrushes, its creams and lotions. He picks up a tube of lipstick and stares at it, holds it up near his mouth, wondering. He already has the blush on...

"Joe, what are doing? You should be in costume right now."

Joe drops the lipstick with a clatter, turning to find one of his fellow chorus members. "Coming!"

 

 

 

After that, Joe spends most nights before the show with Jessica as she gets ready. She develops a fondness for him; he can tell by the pet names she uses on him - _baby_ and _pretty boy_ , and sometimes she lets Joe brush her hair for her, shiny waves flowing through his fingers like silk. They don't talk about boys and skirts again, but Joe knows he could, if he wanted to, and that's good enough for now.

On the night of the final show, Jessica stops him before they separate, pressing a package wrapped in thin white tissue paper into his small hands. Joe looks down at it. "What's this?"

"Just a goodbye present."

He unwraps the tissue paper slowly. Inside is a bundle of bright red material, soft and shiny. It's a handkerchief, outlined with gold and with a little gold 'J' embroidered in the corner. Joe picks it up carefully, pressing it to his face. It's so silky and it smells like perfume.

"Someone gave it to me for Christmas," Jessica says. "And I thought you might like it. It's got a J on it, see? For Joe."

"And Jessica." He presses himself into her body, feeling her arms come around him in a hug. "Thanks, Jess."

She hugs him tighter. "You know, it takes a lot of courage to be who you are. Be brave, baby boy."

 

 

 

**2003  
**

 

It's pretty hard to get alone time lately, especially when they're so busy. Nick's still doing Broadway shows practically every night, Kevin has a few commercials lined up, and even though Joe's not working right now he still has home-school and his brothers' schedules to keep up with. Even then, he tries to find a half hour to himself every couple of days, to slip upstairs into his special place.

Their attic is full of old boxes, newspapers and antiques that Mom insists might be worth something one day. In the back corner is Joe's area; an old trunk, totally indistinguishable from all the other old trunks. When he escapes up the stairs, heart thumping, it's waiting for him there.

He kneels on the dusty floor and carefully levers the heavy lid of the trunk open. Inside are Joe's treasures - Jess's handkerchief, still as silken-soft as the day she gave it to him, an old nightgown of Mom's, a rolled up pair of stockings, and a pleated tennis skirt that he took from Mandy's drawers when she wasn't looking.

He wriggles out of his jeans and pulls the stockings carefully up his legs. They're far too big on him and he has to pull them up, bunching around his waist so they fit his skinny legs properly. Next he fastens Mandy's skirt on and goes to look at himself in the small, dusty mirror that leans against the far wall.

The mirror cuts off at waist height but Joe likes it that way. If he swishes this way and that, looking at himself in the dirty glass, he can imagine that those are the legs of a girl his age; shapely, feminine. He hasn't got any hair on his legs yet, so the illusion is easier.

Joe can't explain why he does this; why he needs it, why it makes him so happy. He doesn’t know where that rush comes from, why his breath comes shorter, why he feels so excited every time he pulls on that skirt. It feels, during the day, like he's somehow not right, like there's something missing from him. Sometimes when he's in his Mom's old clothes, he feels a little better, a little more whole.

Joe is old enough by now to know that this is wrong. That it's something taboo; to be hidden away. Despite Jess's reassurances, he still feels achingly guilty every time he does it. He's breaking the rules here, even if they're rules that he doesn't really understand. He just can't seem to stop himself from doing it, just for a few minutes, a quarter of an hour.

Nick will be wondering where he's gone; they were supposed be playing a game right now. Joe looks at his legs one more time and pulls the skirt and stockings off, stashing them back in their hiding place.

 

When Joe leaves the attic, he's back in his jeans again, back to being a boy.

 

 

**2005  
**

Columbia signs them as a three brother act, and the adventure of touring begins; crammed into the back of dirty vans and performing to half-empty school auditoriums.

It's the same year that puberty hits Joe with a vengeance, and if he wasn't so excited about the band, he'd probably be one very unhappy fourteen year old. Hair seems to spring up _everywhere_ , dark and thick and coarse, on his legs and his arms and his chest and between his legs. His shoulders get broader, the soft lines of his jaw sharpen, and his eyebrows take on a life of their own.

It's not that Joe hates the way he looks; not entirely. It's just that it makes it so much more difficult to escape, to go on his little holidays when he sneaks himself into his stolen clothes. The stockings catch and pull on his leg-hair, now; the dress-straps are even more awkward on his widening shoulders. The fantasy is harder to achieve, but it still makes him feel really good. There's still that little thrill when he looks at himself in Mom's old nightgown, still that happiness.

The questions and the guilt don't go away. Late at night, curled up between his brothers and the van rumbling beneath them, Joe lets himself wonder. Who is he, exactly? What is he? Sometimes the answer is easy: he's fourteen, he sings, he's a Christian, he loves his family. He also happens to be a boy who secretly dresses in his mother's clothes on occasion. It worries him and it terrifies him, because he _knows_ it's not the way he’s supposed to be.

Joe wishes he could talk to someone about how much this scares him. Nick and Kevin are his best friends, and Joe knows they tell him absolutely everything. But he doesn't even know how to start talking about this. He can't explain it to himself, so how could his brothers understand?

No. In this, Joe is alone.

 

 

**2007  
**

 

Kevin was actually the first one of them to straighten his hair; Joe's was never long enough. He likes his curls, but when the stylist suggests one of them change their hair to stand out a bit more, he volunteers.

He likes what he sees. He likes how smooth it is, the way it frames his face differently. His features seem softer, sweeter, with the straight hair. It's a time of experimentation for all of them; there's stylists and producers and Disney people on their backs 24/7, trying to get each of them to develop a style. Joe likes picking out the different outfits, the accessories. He's lucky that it's 'in' to be a little androgynous these days; nobody thinks twice when he goes for skinny jeans and pink shirts, when he dabs a little lip-gloss on before a big event.

Joe can get away with being pretty feminine-looking in his everyday life. The fans may tease about his 'ladycoats' and pretty hair, but for the first time Joe feels like he's settled, comfortable in what he's doing. He doesn't feel the need to sneak off and shamefully pull on his mother's old outfits, not anymore. There's still a longing there, under the surface, an itch that might never be scratched. It's tempered by the hope that one day he'll be able to buy the clothes he wants, wear pretty things and put sweet-smelling creams on his skin; that one day he'll have his own place where he can have a closet-full of clothes, not hiding, not lying.

Joe doesn't have a name for what he is. He's done some poking around on the internet, tried to find people like him out there. It's a minefield of shoddy websites, porn pages and half-baked pseudo-psychology that ranges between calling what he does schizophrenic to calling him a tranny. Is that what he is, a 'tranny'? It doesn't feel right on his tongue, in his head. The websites all have different definitions for 'transexual', too - some talk about straight men cross-dressing, about drag, about men who get surgeries to become women. Joe doesn't want that, he knows that instantly. This isn't about a permanent change.

 

He doesn't wish he was really a woman, he thinks. Joe feels good when he’s girly, feels better, sure. That doesn’t mean that he’d ever do anything extreme about it - the idea of surgery or hormones terrifies him, feels like too much, too far, especially when he’s so undecided about himself.

The words of the websites swirl in his head - transgender, transsexual, transvestite...none of it feels right, none of it feels like _him_. All Joe knows is that there’s something about women that’s so…beautiful. Elegant, refined, sweet, soft. They’re all words that come to mind when Joe thinks about girls are they’re all things that he wants to be. Joe loves that old-fashioned idea of a ‘lady’, with big dresses and satin gloves and a gentleman to whisk her off her feet, like in black and white movies.

There’s something inside him that longs for that feeling of being treasured, taken care of, loved. When he thinks about romance, about getting married someday and being in love, he can never seem to imagine himself being the big, burly husband who takes care of a woman. When Joe thinks about romance, he imagines himself in the opposite way, with someone’s strong arms tight around him, being held instead of holding, being romanced instead of romancing. He feels backwards and odd for thinking it, because Joe’s been taught his whole life that it’s the husband’s job to take care of the wife, has seen his parents act like that countless times.

 

And yet. He can’t let go of these fantasies. He surfs those websites, those forums, desperate to find someone like him, and even though no one has the exact same story, there’s dozens of people who describe feeling the same way; confused, lost, scared. It is an enormous revelation to know that at least he's not the only one, and Joe carries that knowledge with him whenever things feel like too much, when he feels like too much of a freak.

 

 

**2008  
**

 

2008 is the craziest year of Joe's life. He's pretty sure he doesn't have a day off the entire year - it's just concert, promo, interview, tour bus, over and over in a never-ending loop of early wake-up calls and screaming fans.

Meeting Camilla is like the icing on the cake of an awesome couple of months. She's so glamorous and sophisticated but sweet, too, and funny, and the best part is that she likes him. Joe can't believe _Camilla Belle_ wants to date a geek like him.

Dating Cam changes Joe's mind about himself, yet again. If he can date someone like her, if he likes being around her and kissing her and all that, doesn't that make him a pretty normal seventeen year old dude? He hasn't dressed in girl's clothes in months, and he doesn't feel like he needs to, either. Sure, he still likes to leave his hair straight and long, still chooses the purple shirt over the black one, still uses passionfruit body wash instead of boring old soap. But he has a girlfriend now, so he's starting to convince himself that all that weirdness is a thing of the past. A confused kid who thought it would be awesome to wear Mom's clothes once every couple of weeks, nothing more. He can just be a real guy who's not exactly the manliest ever, but still pretty average. Still normal.

 

**2009 - January  
**

 

At Camilla's house one afternoon, they make out for a solid hour. Camilla's mouth is warm and soft,  she tastes like strawberry lipgloss, and she's a really, really good kisser. Joe’s lips are kind of starting to go numb but he doesn't really care, because it's rare that he gets time like this, to just be alone with her and do what he wants.

Camilla reaches for his hand, bringing it to rest on her chest, but Joe moves it away, to her shoulder. She smiles a little against his mouth. "I'm letting you."

"It's okay," Joe replies nervously. "You don't have to."

She lays back against the pillows, watching him thoughtfully. "Do you want to? Do you want to have sex?"

Joe flushes. "Is that an offer or a question?"

Camilla grins. "Both."

"I - I can't, Cam." He waves his hand, sunlight glinting off his ring. "You know that."

She crawls on top of him, breasts pressing into his chest as she kisses him again. "Nobody would know."

She kisses him into submission, small body pressing him into the bed as she licks into his mouth and sneaks her hand down to his crotch.

"I could just -" she breathes, rubbing at him through his jeans. "Just touch you, if you want."

"I don't - we shouldn't - Cam!" Joe rolls out from under her, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet hanging off the edge.

She touches tentatively at his back. "I'm sorry."

Camilla leaves him alone a few minutes later, looking confused and a little sympathetic. She must think that he was overwhelmed, too turned on by her touch, overly responsive like any teenage boy would be when presented with a willing, beautiful woman.

That wasn't the problem, and Joe sits on her bed for a long time, wondering what's wrong with him if he can't get turned on by _Camilla Belle_.

 

 

**2009 - March**

****

 

 ****  
Camilla still shows up on his google alerts, leftover from his puppy-like crush on her before they met. Joe still clicks through them some days, just to see what the press are saying, about her, about them. He's lying on his stomach in bed one night, laptop casting an eerie glow over the room as he peruses pictures of Camilla attending some event in New York. She looks stunning; in a short, silky purple dress that brushes her knees.

It must be really soft, Joe muses to himself. It must feel nice on her skin, that material. Her skin's this gold tan like Joe's, and the purple looks amazing against it. It would probably suit him, Joe thinks. That dress, it would probably look amazing on him like it does on her. It would probably swish against his thighs, flow gently over his hips. It would feel really good to wear that dress. The longer he stares, the more Joe sees just the dress and not the girl wearing it. The more he stares, the more Camilla's features morph into his own, until he can see himself clad in the pretty purple garment.

He snaps out of the fantasy with an unpleasant jolt.

_No. Nononononono._

Joe stares at the picture in horror, mind reeling as he realises something he should have known months ago.

I don't want to be with her.

I want to _be_ her.

Joe breathes deeply for a few long moments before he pulls his phone out. "Cam, we need to talk."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joe's mourning period over Camilla has been going for a full month. A month of Joe being silent, moody, over-emotional. Nick absolutely hates it, because he just doesn't know how to help. Joe won't tell him what happened, won't even say who dumped who. He turns away from Nick's offers to talk it out, stops laughing at Kevin's stupid jokes. The worst part is that he stops _making_ stupid jokes, and Nick never realised before how much he needed Joe's humour in his life.

It's the first time in their lives that Nick has felt a real distance between himself and his brother. It's not just him, either; Joe cuts himself off from everyone, except their fans. The only time Joe really acts like Joe these days is when they're on stage. That's when he smiles and runs and sings his lungs out, and Nick allows himself a few hours of hope every night, hope that Joe's finally going to start being his brother again.

It doesn't happen. Within half an hour of stepping off the stage, Joe has shut down again. Nick and Kevin both try to start conversations with him on the way home, but all they get is murmurs and one word answers. Mom and Dad are exchanging worried, frustrated glances in the front seat, and Nick just wants to shake Joe, scream _be happy again! I miss my big brother!_ , but that would probably be selfish, so he curls his hands into fists and stays silent.

Getting ready for bed, Nick tries again. "Good show tonight, huh?"

Joe sits down on the edge of his bed, taking his contacts out and placing them in their little plastic tray. "Yep."

Nick settles on his own bed, opposite Joe, trying to get Joe to respond. "You really nailed BB Good."

Joe slips his glasses on. "Thanks."

He doesn't even _look_ at Nick.

Nick runs his fingers through his hair, biting back a scream of frustration. "Joe, are you - are you okay?"

"Sure, Nicky. M'fine."

"You don't seem it. I wish you'd talk to me, Joe. Break ups suck, I know how you feel."

"Do you know who you are, Nick?" Joe asks, suddenly looking up, meeting Nick's eyes. "I mean really, truly?"

"I - I guess," Nick flounders. "I have a pretty good idea."

"And are you happy with it? Comfortable?"

Nick shrugs, feeling supremely awkward in this moment. Joe's gaze is piercing and challenging.

"You ever have something happen that completely changes how you feel about yourself? That makes you question your entire life?"

"Well -"

'You haven't, okay? You haven't. So don't tell me you know how I feel."

"Maybe you could explain it to me!" Nick blurts. "How am I supposed to help you if you won't let me, huh?"

Joe shakes his head. "You won't understand. You can't understand."

Nick stands up, feeling anger flare in his chest. "You're pathetic, you know that? Oh, poor Joe, got dumped by his girlfriend, nobody understands his pain. Grow up."

Joe jumps to his feet as well, stepping up to Nick until they're toe to toe in the confined space between their beds. "This has _nothing_ to do with Camilla," he hisses.

"Then what is it about? Come on, Joe, tell me. Tell me what's gone so wrong for you lately." Nick demands.

"How about _everything?_ How about that, Nick?! How about I lost someone special to me because I finally realised that I never loved her the way I should have? How about I've lied to myself my entire life because I'm terrified of finding out what I really am? Can you fix that?"

Joe's shouting, arms flailing wildly and eyes wide. Nick has absolutely no idea what he's talking about but he knows that this is much bigger than he thought. He puts his hands on Joe's arms, squeezing tightly. "I don't know. I don't know, okay? But you have to let me help you."

Joe shakes his head again, his shoulders slumping in sudden defeat. "I can't," he says in a small voice. "You'll hate me."

Nick steps closer, tugging a reluctant Joe, inch by inch, into a hug. Joe resists him at first, muscles locked, but the second he feels Nick's arms wrap around him he collapses, burying his face in Nick's neck. "I can't," he keeps saying. "I can't lose you over this."

"You won't," Nick soothes mindlessly, wondering what could possibly be making Joe so upset. He smooths his hands down Joe's back. "Please tell me."

"I just," Joe whispers against Nick's neck. "I want something really bad. Something I'm not supposed to have, even though I think it might make me happy."

Nick hugs him tighter, letting one hand tangle in Joe's curls. "You should go for it. Whatever it is. If it'll make you happy again, we can deal with whatever comes with it, okay?"

Joe doesn't answer, just keeps drawing these deep, shuddering breaths, shoulders shaking under Nick's touch.

"I love you," Nick murmurs. "You know that, right? I love you."

 

 

 

 

Joe is still quiet for the next week or so, but it seems to be more of a thoughtful quiet than the scary-sad quiet it has been, which makes Nick feel a little better. He's still desperate to ask Joe what's wrong, what caused this sudden depression, since Joe insists it has nothing to with Camilla. He considers confronting Joe a few times, but he still seems a little fragile and he's finally starting to act like himself again so Nick doesn't want to push it.

Then, one day, it's like somebody flipped a switch, and suddenly Joe's _happy_ again. He keeps getting into everyone's space, making loud, obnoxious jokes in Kevin's ear, tickling Frankie ‘til he can't breathe, enveloping Mom in spontaneous hugs.

"What is with you today?" Nick demands as Joe breaks into yet another secret, nervous little smile. He's been doing it all day, like he keeps thinking about something that's scary and exciting at the same time.

Joe shrugs. "Remember that thing I wanted? I got it."

"What was it?"

Joe doesn't answer, just smiles at Nick again, coy and frustrating.

 

 

 

They're rolling around on the hotel room floor the next week, jetlag and diet coke keeping them awake, the playful wrestling a last resort to tire themselves out. Nick's got the advantage at the moment, straddling Joe's thighs as they grapple, trying to pin Joe's arms to his chest. They're both panting and flushed, and Nick's nearly won, can almost taste the victory, when he notices a flash of pink near the waistband of Joe's jeans and he gets totally distracted.

"Dude, are you wearing pink boxers?"

It's not exactly unusual for Joe to wear pink, not by a long shot, but as far as Nick knows he's never taken it as far as his underwear before, and that's certainly something to tease about.

Normally, Joe would laugh and say _Yeah, so what? I love pink_ , before tackling Nick to the ground and getting the upper hand again. But tonight he doesn't do that at all. He goes completely still underneath Nick, dropping his arms and not meeting Nick's eyes.

"N -no. Of course not."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Come on, I saw them."

He reaches for the hem of Joe's t-shirt, tugging it up so he can prove his point. Joe struggles under him, trying to grab Nick's hands and hold him off. "Nick, don't!"

"What's your problem? I already saw them -"

"Nick, come on, get off me."

Determined now, Nick grabs Joe's wrists and holds them tightly in one hand, holding him still while he reaches for the hem of Joe's jeans. "See, you're totally wearing -"

Nick stops short, sucking in a shocked breath when he tugs the waistband of Joe's jeans down far enough to reveal his underwear. They're not boxers at all, they're _panties_. Girl's panties, lacy and delicate, pale pink against Joe's tan skin.

He raises wide eyes to look at Joe's face. "Joe, what -?" he asks, but he can't seem to get past that thought. Just, _what?_

Joe looks utterly miserable, cheeks red with embarrassment. He won't look at Nick. "Can you get off me, please?"

"I - sure." Nick clambers awkwardly off Joe's lap, watching as Joe stands and straightens out his clothes, the panties hidden safely away, as though they were never there at all.

"Joe..."

Joe's arms are crossed protectively over his chest, eyes locked somewhere in the vicinity of his own feet, and Nick is forcibly reminded of the sad, monosyllabic version of his brother he was dealing with just under a month ago.

As the shock subsides, Nick's brain remains a mess of unanswered questions, but he manages to latch onto one thought. "This is what you've been keeping from me."

It's not a question.

A nod.

"This is what you wanted? That you couldn't have, and then you got it, and that's why you're happy all of a sudden."

There's an accusation in Nick's voice, and he's not exactly sure why.

Joe looks up at him through his curls, and Nick doesn't think he's ever seen his brother so terrified. "Nick, I can explain."

"This is a big deal, isn't it? It isn't a one time thing." Nick guesses, running his fingers through his own hair and trying to keep his voice even.

Joe shakes his head slowly. "No, it's not a one time thing."

Nick sits down heavily on his bed, thoughts racing. He feels stunned stupid, unable to process any of this.

Joe fidgets, tugging at his shirt as though if he adjusts it enough the sight of his underwear will magically disappear from Nick's memory. He sits tentatively on the bed, leaving a wide space between them.

"What is this?" Nick says finally. He waves his hand vaguely in Joe's direction. "Is it a sex thing or something? Do you-" he swallows uncomfortably. "Do you get off on it?"

"No!" Joe responds, cheeks burning. "Well, okay, sometimes, but that's not the point of it."

"And this wasn't the first time."

Joe is staring at his lap, looking like this is the worst conversation he could possibly imagine having. He shakes his head again. "I, uh. I used to - when we were kids. With Mom's old stuff."

Nick nods blankly, rubbing his hand over his jaw as he absorbs this. He doesn't know what to feel - concerned, scared, confused, angry?

"Why?" That's what keeps flying through Nick's thoughts. _Why, why, WHY?_

Joe lets out a noise that sounds halfway between a sob and a laugh. "I don't know."

"You don't know what makes you want to - what, dress up like a woman?" Nick asks. He has no idea how to even begin to understand what's happening here. He's only heard vague stories about people who do that kind of thing, and he's always thought it was just some kind of weird kink.

Joe shrugs. "I just - it feels good. Comfortable, you know? Like it's what I was supposed to be wearing the whole time. It's always been like that."

"How could you not tell me?"

Joe's face falls again. "Nick, I wanted to. So many times. How was I supposed to start that conversation? 'By the way, Nick, your brother is a secret cross dresser?' You wouldn't understand."

"I don't." Nick admits flatly. "But mostly I don't understand how you could keep a huge part of yourself from me for years."

"I'm sorry," Joe offers, voice cracking. "I wish I could have."

“You _lied_ to me, Joe. I can’t even - you’re my best friend, you’re my brother and I thought you trusted me.”

“I do trust you!” Joe replies, looking offended. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you, to ask for help...you think it’s been easy for me to have no one to talk to?”

“Clearly it wasn’t hard enough for you to get over yourself and tell me.”

Nick has to get out of this room. He feels like he can't breathe; emotions and questions and accusations clogging up the air. He turns his back on Joe, heading for the bathroom for some time alone. "Nick, don't hate me." Joe begs softly.

Nick pauses in the bathroom doorway, looking back at this stranger of a brother.

"I don't hate you," he says heavily. "I just don't know you."

 

 

[Part Two  
](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1)       [Masterpost](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153865.html)

 

 

**1995**

 

"Mom, can I have a cookie?" Joe asks, tugging at her skirt where she's standing at the kitchen counter. She smiles down at him, ruffling his baby soft hair.

"No, sweetie, it's nearly dinner time. You still watching Nicky for me?"

Joe nods solemnly, pointing to where a three year old Nick sits on the kitchen floor, papers spread out around him. "We're drawing pictures."

"Can I see one?"

Joe goes over to the spot on the floor, rummaging through the paper until he grabs one and brings it over. She inspects it carefully. "Okay, who's this?"

Joe pulls the paper down toward him, pointing a chubby finger at each of the figures. "That's you, that's Daddy, that's Kevin, me, and Nicky."

Mom frowns. "That's you?" She rests a fingertip on the figure Joe pointed out.

"Uh-huh."

"Honey, is this - is this a skirt?"

Joe nods, nothing showing on his face but earnestness as he blinks up at his mother.

"How come you've got a skirt on but your brothers have shorts?"

Joe shrugs. "I dunno. Just wanted it like that."

Mom takes a deep breath, brushing her curls out of her eyes and gathering her dress as she kneels to look him in the eye. "Joey, boys don't wear skirts, okay?"

"Why not?"

"It's just...it's just the way things are."

"Oh." Joe looks down at his drawing. "Did I do a bad picture, Mommy?"

"Oh no, no, darling. You just got a little confused, that's all. It's a beautiful picture. Just...can I keep it ? Can Mommy keep it?"

"Are you gonna put it on the fridge?"

"No, I'm going to keep it somewhere really special, okay? Just for me. We won't even tell your Dad or Kevin."

Joe's eyes widen. "Like a secret?"

"That's right."

"Okay."

She touches affectionately at his nose. "Okay. Can you put Nick in his chair for dinner?"

"Uh-huh." Joe turns to get Nicky, and misses the way his mother stares at the picture for a long moment before folding it carefully into her pocket.

 

 

 

 

**1996**

****

 

 ****  
"I'm gonna be Batman today!"

"Nuh-uh, Kevin, you always get Batman, I want Batman!"

"I call the fairy costume!"

Mandy wrinkles her nose. "Joe, you're not allowed to wear the fairy costume."

"Why?"

"Because you're a boy, silly."

Joe stamps his foot, bending into the trunk of dress-up clothes and pulling out Mandy's Fairy Princess costume. "It's just pretend, come on!"

Mandy frowns. "Alright. But we have to swap soon."

Joe gets himself into the purple [costume](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/bbfairyjoe.png), adding in the fake wings and a sparkly fairy wand for good measure. Batman and Mandy's witch have an epic battle using some foam swords while Joe watches on, ensconced in his 'prison' under the table. "Save me!" he calls out. When Kevin wins the battle, he pulls Joe out from under the table. "My lady," he says grandly.

"Thank you. I will grant you one wish."

"I want to be able to fly!"

Joe touches his wand to Kevin's head. "Okay, you can fly!"

"JOE!"

Joe looks up. "Hi, Dad! I'm giving Kevin magic powers!"

Dad smiles, but Joe thinks his face looks a little funny, like he feels sick or something.

"That's good, son. Did Kevin use the only boy costume?"

"Nope, I wanted to be the Princess today."

Dad's hand squeezes at Joe's shoulder a little hard. "Dad, ow."

"Sorry, Joey. Take that off, it's time to go."

Joe pouts. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, now, please."

"I was Batman." Kevin says helpfully.

"Dad, can we get a fairy princess costume too? I like Mandy's one."

"No." Dad says shortly as he helps Kevin pull his costume over his head.

"Why?"

"Because boys don't wear skirts."

 

 

**2000  
**

 

Joe begs for months before his parents finally give in and get him his Easy Bake Oven for Christmas. It's so awesome, he can make anything he wants whenever he wants, so long as he promises to clean up afterward. He likes planning little meals for everyone, making them sit down around the table while he serves up the cookie or muffin recipe of the day. Sometimes he even writes menus, decorating them for hours; careful handwriting and glued-on sparkles. Kevin and Nick love it because they get free food, and Mom likes to help him out while he cooks.

When Joe sets Kevin's special blue-frosted cupcake on his plate one day, Kevin takes a bite and smiles contemplatively at Joe. "You're not really like other boys, Joe."

Joe shrugs. This isn't exactly news. It's easy enough to see just comparing himself with Kevin. Kevin likes to play sports and run around with other boys and play video games. Joe likes all those things too, but he also likes cooking and writing in his diary (the password protected one with the flowers on it, another present he campaigned for) and helping Mom around the house. Joe's favourite colour is purple, not blue, like Kevin's; the first CD Joe bought was by Britney Spears and he still likes to put it on loud and dance around his bedroom. Joe doesn't really mind too much that he's not like everyone else. None of them really are, in their family, and Mom always tells them that it's okay to be different; it's what makes them special.

 

 

**2002  
**

 

Being in _La Boheme_ is one of the best periods of Joe's life. It's exciting and fun and loud and he gets to sing every night on a big stage with his friends. Even better than that is that sometimes, if Joe gets dropped off early, he gets to hang around backstage and watch everyone get ready. It's a madhouse, but Joe's little and good at keeping out of the way, so no one really notices the quiet eleven year old sitting in the corner of the bustling dressing rooms. He likes to watch the racks of bright clothes being wheeled past, the PAs with their fancy headsets talking to themselves, the dainty way the women cross their legs at their light-lined vanities. They're Joe's heroes, these women, and he's spellbound by their shiny hair and red lips, the nimble movement of their fingers as they apply their stage make-up.

Joe's favourite is a woman called Jessica who plays Musetta. She's tall and glamorous with long, luscious dark hair that falls down her shoulders in thick waves. She has this soaring, beautiful voice and the prettiest smile he’s ever seen. He ran into the back of her legs by accident once, on the way off-stage, and she'd smiled down at him and asked his name. Tonight, she catches him watching her in the mirror.

"Joe, baby, come over here."

Joe comes to stand at her vanity. She smiles warmly at him. "You all ready for tonight, Joey?"

Joe nods. "Just gotta get my costume on, and George wants one more run-through before curtain, but that's it."

She reaches for a pot of something shimmery and rubs her finger in it, smearing it over her eyelids in slow, careful movements. Joe watches her in the mirror, his hands clutching the edge of the vanity, and feels suddenly overwhelmed with feelings he can't put a name to. Later in life, he will know what they were: longing, envy, sadness.

When Jessica's finished with her make-up, she turns to him. "You want me to do your make-up?"

"Sure." Joe knows the drill by now, and closes his eyes as she sweeps a thick layer of foundation over his face. "You're so lucky," he murmurs as she dabs blush onto his cheekbones. "You get to wear such pretty clothes."

He can see the deep green of Musetta’s dress under Jess’s dressing gown; he reaches out and pets lightly at where the skirt of it is peeking out, the velvet warm under his stubby fingers.

"You wear pretty clothes too." Jessica responds.

"Not like yours. I can't."

"Why not?"

Joe looks down at his feet and repeats his father's words. "Boys don't wear skirts."

There's a long pause before Joe feels a fingertip under his chin, forcing him to look up at her from under the sweep of his eyelashes. Jess looks sad, her eyebrows drawn together and expression soft. "Oh, sweetie," she says. "Some boys do."

"Really?" Joe can't contain the hopeful tone of his voice. He's never heard of anything like that before.

"Yeah." She brushes her fingers through his hair, biting her lip. "It's, um, it's a little different, I guess. But there's nothing wrong with it, okay?"

Joe doesn't really understand how it _wouldn't_ be wrong, but he nods anyway. "Okay."

"Jessica! We need you in hair!"

Jessica startles and turns towards the PA. "I'll be there in a minute."

She turns back to Joe, cupping his face in her hand for a moment. "You're such a lovely little boy, Joe. You come back to me if you want to talk, alright?"

Joe shrugs. "Sure."

Jessica rises from the table and is hustled away. Joe takes a minute to feast his eyes on the vanity; its little jars of glittery makeup, its hairbrushes, its creams and lotions. He picks up a tube of lipstick and stares at it, holds it up near his mouth, wondering. He already has the blush on...

"Joe, what are doing? You should be in costume right now."

Joe drops the lipstick with a clatter, turning to find one of his fellow chorus members. "Coming!"

 

 

 

After that, Joe spends most nights before the show with Jessica as she gets ready. She develops a fondness for him; he can tell by the pet names she uses on him - _baby_ and _pretty boy_ , and sometimes she lets Joe brush her hair for her, shiny waves flowing through his fingers like silk. They don't talk about boys and skirts again, but Joe knows he could, if he wanted to, and that's good enough for now.

On the night of the final show, Jessica stops him before they separate, pressing a package wrapped in thin white tissue paper into his small hands. Joe looks down at it. "What's this?"

"Just a goodbye present."

He unwraps the tissue paper slowly. Inside is a bundle of bright red material, soft and shiny. It's a handkerchief, outlined with gold and with a little gold 'J' embroidered in the corner. Joe picks it up carefully, pressing it to his face. It's so silky and it smells like perfume.

"Someone gave it to me for Christmas," Jessica says. "And I thought you might like it. It's got a J on it, see? For Joe."

"And Jessica." He presses himself into her body, feeling her arms come around him in a hug. "Thanks, Jess."

She hugs him tighter. "You know, it takes a lot of courage to be who you are. Be brave, baby boy."

 

 

 

**2003  
**

 

It's pretty hard to get alone time lately, especially when they're so busy. Nick's still doing Broadway shows practically every night, Kevin has a few commercials lined up, and even though Joe's not working right now he still has home-school and his brothers' schedules to keep up with. Even then, he tries to find a half hour to himself every couple of days, to slip upstairs into his special place.

Their attic is full of old boxes, newspapers and antiques that Mom insists might be worth something one day. In the back corner is Joe's area; an old trunk, totally indistinguishable from all the other old trunks. When he escapes up the stairs, heart thumping, it's waiting for him there.

He kneels on the dusty floor and carefully levers the heavy lid of the trunk open. Inside are Joe's treasures - Jess's handkerchief, still as silken-soft as the day she gave it to him, an old nightgown of Mom's, a rolled up pair of stockings, and a pleated tennis skirt that he took from Mandy's drawers when she wasn't looking.

He wriggles out of his jeans and pulls the stockings carefully up his legs. They're far too big on him and he has to pull them up, bunching around his waist so they fit his skinny legs properly. Next he fastens Mandy's skirt on and goes to look at himself in the small, dusty mirror that leans against the far wall.

The mirror cuts off at waist height but Joe likes it that way. If he swishes this way and that, looking at himself in the dirty glass, he can imagine that those are the legs of a girl his age; shapely, feminine. He hasn't got any hair on his legs yet, so the illusion is easier.

Joe can't explain why he does this; why he needs it, why it makes him so happy. He doesn’t know where that rush comes from, why his breath comes shorter, why he feels so excited every time he pulls on that skirt. It feels, during the day, like he's somehow not right, like there's something missing from him. Sometimes when he's in his Mom's old clothes, he feels a little better, a little more whole.

Joe is old enough by now to know that this is wrong. That it's something taboo; to be hidden away. Despite Jess's reassurances, he still feels achingly guilty every time he does it. He's breaking the rules here, even if they're rules that he doesn't really understand. He just can't seem to stop himself from doing it, just for a few minutes, a quarter of an hour.

Nick will be wondering where he's gone; they were supposed be playing a game right now. Joe looks at his legs one more time and pulls the skirt and stockings off, stashing them back in their hiding place.

 

When Joe leaves the attic, he's back in his jeans again, back to being a boy.

 

 

**2005  
**

Columbia signs them as a three brother act, and the adventure of touring begins; crammed into the back of dirty vans and performing to half-empty school auditoriums.

It's the same year that puberty hits Joe with a vengeance, and if he wasn't so excited about the band, he'd probably be one very unhappy fourteen year old. Hair seems to spring up _everywhere_ , dark and thick and coarse, on his legs and his arms and his chest and between his legs. His shoulders get broader, the soft lines of his jaw sharpen, and his eyebrows take on a life of their own.

It's not that Joe hates the way he looks; not entirely. It's just that it makes it so much more difficult to escape, to go on his little holidays when he sneaks himself into his stolen clothes. The stockings catch and pull on his leg-hair, now; the dress-straps are even more awkward on his widening shoulders. The fantasy is harder to achieve, but it still makes him feel really good. There's still that little thrill when he looks at himself in Mom's old nightgown, still that happiness.

The questions and the guilt don't go away. Late at night, curled up between his brothers and the van rumbling beneath them, Joe lets himself wonder. Who is he, exactly? What is he? Sometimes the answer is easy: he's fourteen, he sings, he's a Christian, he loves his family. He also happens to be a boy who secretly dresses in his mother's clothes on occasion. It worries him and it terrifies him, because he _knows_ it's not the way he’s supposed to be.

Joe wishes he could talk to someone about how much this scares him. Nick and Kevin are his best friends, and Joe knows they tell him absolutely everything. But he doesn't even know how to start talking about this. He can't explain it to himself, so how could his brothers understand?

No. In this, Joe is alone.

 

 

**2007  
**

 

Kevin was actually the first one of them to straighten his hair; Joe's was never long enough. He likes his curls, but when the stylist suggests one of them change their hair to stand out a bit more, he volunteers.

He likes what he sees. He likes how smooth it is, the way it frames his face differently. His features seem softer, sweeter, with the straight hair. It's a time of experimentation for all of them; there's stylists and producers and Disney people on their backs 24/7, trying to get each of them to develop a style. Joe likes picking out the different outfits, the accessories. He's lucky that it's 'in' to be a little androgynous these days; nobody thinks twice when he goes for skinny jeans and pink shirts, when he dabs a little lip-gloss on before a big event.

Joe can get away with being pretty feminine-looking in his everyday life. The fans may tease about his 'ladycoats' and pretty hair, but for the first time Joe feels like he's settled, comfortable in what he's doing. He doesn't feel the need to sneak off and shamefully pull on his mother's old outfits, not anymore. There's still a longing there, under the surface, an itch that might never be scratched. It's tempered by the hope that one day he'll be able to buy the clothes he wants, wear pretty things and put sweet-smelling creams on his skin; that one day he'll have his own place where he can have a closet-full of clothes, not hiding, not lying.

Joe doesn't have a name for what he is. He's done some poking around on the internet, tried to find people like him out there. It's a minefield of shoddy websites, porn pages and half-baked pseudo-psychology that ranges between calling what he does schizophrenic to calling him a tranny. Is that what he is, a 'tranny'? It doesn't feel right on his tongue, in his head. The websites all have different definitions for 'transexual', too - some talk about straight men cross-dressing, about drag, about men who get surgeries to become women. Joe doesn't want that, he knows that instantly. This isn't about a permanent change.

 

He doesn't wish he was really a woman, he thinks. Joe feels good when he’s girly, feels better, sure. That doesn’t mean that he’d ever do anything extreme about it - the idea of surgery or hormones terrifies him, feels like too much, too far, especially when he’s so undecided about himself.

The words of the websites swirl in his head - transgender, transsexual, transvestite...none of it feels right, none of it feels like _him_. All Joe knows is that there’s something about women that’s so…beautiful. Elegant, refined, sweet, soft. They’re all words that come to mind when Joe thinks about girls are they’re all things that he wants to be. Joe loves that old-fashioned idea of a ‘lady’, with big dresses and satin gloves and a gentleman to whisk her off her feet, like in black and white movies.

There’s something inside him that longs for that feeling of being treasured, taken care of, loved. When he thinks about romance, about getting married someday and being in love, he can never seem to imagine himself being the big, burly husband who takes care of a woman. When Joe thinks about romance, he imagines himself in the opposite way, with someone’s strong arms tight around him, being held instead of holding, being romanced instead of romancing. He feels backwards and odd for thinking it, because Joe’s been taught his whole life that it’s the husband’s job to take care of the wife, has seen his parents act like that countless times.

 

And yet. He can’t let go of these fantasies. He surfs those websites, those forums, desperate to find someone like him, and even though no one has the exact same story, there’s dozens of people who describe feeling the same way; confused, lost, scared. It is an enormous revelation to know that at least he's not the only one, and Joe carries that knowledge with him whenever things feel like too much, when he feels like too much of a freak.

 

 

**2008  
**

 

2008 is the craziest year of Joe's life. He's pretty sure he doesn't have a day off the entire year - it's just concert, promo, interview, tour bus, over and over in a never-ending loop of early wake-up calls and screaming fans.

Meeting Camilla is like the icing on the cake of an awesome couple of months. She's so glamorous and sophisticated but sweet, too, and funny, and the best part is that she likes him. Joe can't believe _Camilla Belle_ wants to date a geek like him.

Dating Cam changes Joe's mind about himself, yet again. If he can date someone like her, if he likes being around her and kissing her and all that, doesn't that make him a pretty normal seventeen year old dude? He hasn't dressed in girl's clothes in months, and he doesn't feel like he needs to, either. Sure, he still likes to leave his hair straight and long, still chooses the purple shirt over the black one, still uses passionfruit body wash instead of boring old soap. But he has a girlfriend now, so he's starting to convince himself that all that weirdness is a thing of the past. A confused kid who thought it would be awesome to wear Mom's clothes once every couple of weeks, nothing more. He can just be a real guy who's not exactly the manliest ever, but still pretty average. Still normal.

 

**2009 - January  
**

 

At Camilla's house one afternoon, they make out for a solid hour. Camilla's mouth is warm and soft,  she tastes like strawberry lipgloss, and she's a really, really good kisser. Joe’s lips are kind of starting to go numb but he doesn't really care, because it's rare that he gets time like this, to just be alone with her and do what he wants.

Camilla reaches for his hand, bringing it to rest on her chest, but Joe moves it away, to her shoulder. She smiles a little against his mouth. "I'm letting you."

"It's okay," Joe replies nervously. "You don't have to."

She lays back against the pillows, watching him thoughtfully. "Do you want to? Do you want to have sex?"

Joe flushes. "Is that an offer or a question?"

Camilla grins. "Both."

"I - I can't, Cam." He waves his hand, sunlight glinting off his ring. "You know that."

She crawls on top of him, breasts pressing into his chest as she kisses him again. "Nobody would know."

She kisses him into submission, small body pressing him into the bed as she licks into his mouth and sneaks her hand down to his crotch.

"I could just -" she breathes, rubbing at him through his jeans. "Just touch you, if you want."

"I don't - we shouldn't - Cam!" Joe rolls out from under her, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet hanging off the edge.

She touches tentatively at his back. "I'm sorry."

Camilla leaves him alone a few minutes later, looking confused and a little sympathetic. She must think that he was overwhelmed, too turned on by her touch, overly responsive like any teenage boy would be when presented with a willing, beautiful woman.

That wasn't the problem, and Joe sits on her bed for a long time, wondering what's wrong with him if he can't get turned on by _Camilla Belle_.

 

 

**2009 - March**

****

 

 ****  
Camilla still shows up on his google alerts, leftover from his puppy-like crush on her before they met. Joe still clicks through them some days, just to see what the press are saying, about her, about them. He's lying on his stomach in bed one night, laptop casting an eerie glow over the room as he peruses pictures of Camilla attending some event in New York. She looks stunning; in a short, silky purple dress that brushes her knees.

It must be really soft, Joe muses to himself. It must feel nice on her skin, that material. Her skin's this gold tan like Joe's, and the purple looks amazing against it. It would probably suit him, Joe thinks. That dress, it would probably look amazing on him like it does on her. It would probably swish against his thighs, flow gently over his hips. It would feel really good to wear that dress. The longer he stares, the more Joe sees just the dress and not the girl wearing it. The more he stares, the more Camilla's features morph into his own, until he can see himself clad in the pretty purple garment.

He snaps out of the fantasy with an unpleasant jolt.

_No. Nononononono._

Joe stares at the picture in horror, mind reeling as he realises something he should have known months ago.

I don't want to be with her.

I want to _be_ her.

Joe breathes deeply for a few long moments before he pulls his phone out. "Cam, we need to talk."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joe's mourning period over Camilla has been going for a full month. A month of Joe being silent, moody, over-emotional. Nick absolutely hates it, because he just doesn't know how to help. Joe won't tell him what happened, won't even say who dumped who. He turns away from Nick's offers to talk it out, stops laughing at Kevin's stupid jokes. The worst part is that he stops _making_ stupid jokes, and Nick never realised before how much he needed Joe's humour in his life.

It's the first time in their lives that Nick has felt a real distance between himself and his brother. It's not just him, either; Joe cuts himself off from everyone, except their fans. The only time Joe really acts like Joe these days is when they're on stage. That's when he smiles and runs and sings his lungs out, and Nick allows himself a few hours of hope every night, hope that Joe's finally going to start being his brother again.

It doesn't happen. Within half an hour of stepping off the stage, Joe has shut down again. Nick and Kevin both try to start conversations with him on the way home, but all they get is murmurs and one word answers. Mom and Dad are exchanging worried, frustrated glances in the front seat, and Nick just wants to shake Joe, scream _be happy again! I miss my big brother!_ , but that would probably be selfish, so he curls his hands into fists and stays silent.

Getting ready for bed, Nick tries again. "Good show tonight, huh?"

Joe sits down on the edge of his bed, taking his contacts out and placing them in their little plastic tray. "Yep."

Nick settles on his own bed, opposite Joe, trying to get Joe to respond. "You really nailed BB Good."

Joe slips his glasses on. "Thanks."

He doesn't even _look_ at Nick.

Nick runs his fingers through his hair, biting back a scream of frustration. "Joe, are you - are you okay?"

"Sure, Nicky. M'fine."

"You don't seem it. I wish you'd talk to me, Joe. Break ups suck, I know how you feel."

"Do you know who you are, Nick?" Joe asks, suddenly looking up, meeting Nick's eyes. "I mean really, truly?"

"I - I guess," Nick flounders. "I have a pretty good idea."

"And are you happy with it? Comfortable?"

Nick shrugs, feeling supremely awkward in this moment. Joe's gaze is piercing and challenging.

"You ever have something happen that completely changes how you feel about yourself? That makes you question your entire life?"

"Well -"

'You haven't, okay? You haven't. So don't tell me you know how I feel."

"Maybe you could explain it to me!" Nick blurts. "How am I supposed to help you if you won't let me, huh?"

Joe shakes his head. "You won't understand. You can't understand."

Nick stands up, feeling anger flare in his chest. "You're pathetic, you know that? Oh, poor Joe, got dumped by his girlfriend, nobody understands his pain. Grow up."

Joe jumps to his feet as well, stepping up to Nick until they're toe to toe in the confined space between their beds. "This has _nothing_ to do with Camilla," he hisses.

"Then what is it about? Come on, Joe, tell me. Tell me what's gone so wrong for you lately." Nick demands.

"How about _everything?_ How about that, Nick?! How about I lost someone special to me because I finally realised that I never loved her the way I should have? How about I've lied to myself my entire life because I'm terrified of finding out what I really am? Can you fix that?"

Joe's shouting, arms flailing wildly and eyes wide. Nick has absolutely no idea what he's talking about but he knows that this is much bigger than he thought. He puts his hands on Joe's arms, squeezing tightly. "I don't know. I don't know, okay? But you have to let me help you."

Joe shakes his head again, his shoulders slumping in sudden defeat. "I can't," he says in a small voice. "You'll hate me."

Nick steps closer, tugging a reluctant Joe, inch by inch, into a hug. Joe resists him at first, muscles locked, but the second he feels Nick's arms wrap around him he collapses, burying his face in Nick's neck. "I can't," he keeps saying. "I can't lose you over this."

"You won't," Nick soothes mindlessly, wondering what could possibly be making Joe so upset. He smooths his hands down Joe's back. "Please tell me."

"I just," Joe whispers against Nick's neck. "I want something really bad. Something I'm not supposed to have, even though I think it might make me happy."

Nick hugs him tighter, letting one hand tangle in Joe's curls. "You should go for it. Whatever it is. If it'll make you happy again, we can deal with whatever comes with it, okay?"

Joe doesn't answer, just keeps drawing these deep, shuddering breaths, shoulders shaking under Nick's touch.

"I love you," Nick murmurs. "You know that, right? I love you."

 

 

 

 

Joe is still quiet for the next week or so, but it seems to be more of a thoughtful quiet than the scary-sad quiet it has been, which makes Nick feel a little better. He's still desperate to ask Joe what's wrong, what caused this sudden depression, since Joe insists it has nothing to with Camilla. He considers confronting Joe a few times, but he still seems a little fragile and he's finally starting to act like himself again so Nick doesn't want to push it.

Then, one day, it's like somebody flipped a switch, and suddenly Joe's _happy_ again. He keeps getting into everyone's space, making loud, obnoxious jokes in Kevin's ear, tickling Frankie ‘til he can't breathe, enveloping Mom in spontaneous hugs.

"What is with you today?" Nick demands as Joe breaks into yet another secret, nervous little smile. He's been doing it all day, like he keeps thinking about something that's scary and exciting at the same time.

Joe shrugs. "Remember that thing I wanted? I got it."

"What was it?"

Joe doesn't answer, just smiles at Nick again, coy and frustrating.

 

 

 

They're rolling around on the hotel room floor the next week, jetlag and diet coke keeping them awake, the playful wrestling a last resort to tire themselves out. Nick's got the advantage at the moment, straddling Joe's thighs as they grapple, trying to pin Joe's arms to his chest. They're both panting and flushed, and Nick's nearly won, can almost taste the victory, when he notices a flash of pink near the waistband of Joe's jeans and he gets totally distracted.

"Dude, are you wearing pink boxers?"

It's not exactly unusual for Joe to wear pink, not by a long shot, but as far as Nick knows he's never taken it as far as his underwear before, and that's certainly something to tease about.

Normally, Joe would laugh and say _Yeah, so what? I love pink_ , before tackling Nick to the ground and getting the upper hand again. But tonight he doesn't do that at all. He goes completely still underneath Nick, dropping his arms and not meeting Nick's eyes.

"N -no. Of course not."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Come on, I saw them."

He reaches for the hem of Joe's t-shirt, tugging it up so he can prove his point. Joe struggles under him, trying to grab Nick's hands and hold him off. "Nick, don't!"

"What's your problem? I already saw them -"

"Nick, come on, get off me."

Determined now, Nick grabs Joe's wrists and holds them tightly in one hand, holding him still while he reaches for the hem of Joe's jeans. "See, you're totally wearing -"

Nick stops short, sucking in a shocked breath when he tugs the waistband of Joe's jeans down far enough to reveal his underwear. They're not boxers at all, they're _panties_. Girl's panties, lacy and delicate, pale pink against Joe's tan skin.

He raises wide eyes to look at Joe's face. "Joe, what -?" he asks, but he can't seem to get past that thought. Just, _what?_

Joe looks utterly miserable, cheeks red with embarrassment. He won't look at Nick. "Can you get off me, please?"

"I - sure." Nick clambers awkwardly off Joe's lap, watching as Joe stands and straightens out his clothes, the panties hidden safely away, as though they were never there at all.

"Joe..."

Joe's arms are crossed protectively over his chest, eyes locked somewhere in the vicinity of his own feet, and Nick is forcibly reminded of the sad, monosyllabic version of his brother he was dealing with just under a month ago.

As the shock subsides, Nick's brain remains a mess of unanswered questions, but he manages to latch onto one thought. "This is what you've been keeping from me."

It's not a question.

A nod.

"This is what you wanted? That you couldn't have, and then you got it, and that's why you're happy all of a sudden."

There's an accusation in Nick's voice, and he's not exactly sure why.

Joe looks up at him through his curls, and Nick doesn't think he's ever seen his brother so terrified. "Nick, I can explain."

"This is a big deal, isn't it? It isn't a one time thing." Nick guesses, running his fingers through his own hair and trying to keep his voice even.

Joe shakes his head slowly. "No, it's not a one time thing."

Nick sits down heavily on his bed, thoughts racing. He feels stunned stupid, unable to process any of this.

Joe fidgets, tugging at his shirt as though if he adjusts it enough the sight of his underwear will magically disappear from Nick's memory. He sits tentatively on the bed, leaving a wide space between them.

"What is this?" Nick says finally. He waves his hand vaguely in Joe's direction. "Is it a sex thing or something? Do you-" he swallows uncomfortably. "Do you get off on it?"

"No!" Joe responds, cheeks burning. "Well, okay, sometimes, but that's not the point of it."

"And this wasn't the first time."

Joe is staring at his lap, looking like this is the worst conversation he could possibly imagine having. He shakes his head again. "I, uh. I used to - when we were kids. With Mom's old stuff."

Nick nods blankly, rubbing his hand over his jaw as he absorbs this. He doesn't know what to feel - concerned, scared, confused, angry?

"Why?" That's what keeps flying through Nick's thoughts. _Why, why, WHY?_

Joe lets out a noise that sounds halfway between a sob and a laugh. "I don't know."

"You don't know what makes you want to - what, dress up like a woman?" Nick asks. He has no idea how to even begin to understand what's happening here. He's only heard vague stories about people who do that kind of thing, and he's always thought it was just some kind of weird kink.

Joe shrugs. "I just - it feels good. Comfortable, you know? Like it's what I was supposed to be wearing the whole time. It's always been like that."

"How could you not tell me?"

Joe's face falls again. "Nick, I wanted to. So many times. How was I supposed to start that conversation? 'By the way, Nick, your brother is a secret cross dresser?' You wouldn't understand."

"I don't." Nick admits flatly. "But mostly I don't understand how you could keep a huge part of yourself from me for years."

"I'm sorry," Joe offers, voice cracking. "I wish I could have."

“You _lied_ to me, Joe. I can’t even - you’re my best friend, you’re my brother and I thought you trusted me.”

“I do trust you!” Joe replies, looking offended. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you, to ask for help...you think it’s been easy for me to have no one to talk to?”

“Clearly it wasn’t hard enough for you to get over yourself and tell me.”

Nick has to get out of this room. He feels like he can't breathe; emotions and questions and accusations clogging up the air. He turns his back on Joe, heading for the bathroom for some time alone. "Nick, don't hate me." Joe begs softly.

Nick pauses in the bathroom doorway, looking back at this stranger of a brother.

"I don't hate you," he says heavily. "I just don't know you."

 

 

[Part Two  
](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)

 


	3. The Lady Is Mine - Part Three

 

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1)     [Part One](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154248.html#cutid1)     [Part Two](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)      

 

Nick never, ever sleeps on flights. He just can’t, has never been able to, even on the most luxurious private jets, the ones that feel more like hotels than planes. He usually tries to read or watch a movie or something, but always ends up just staring blankly out the window and counting down the minutes to landing.

Joe has never had this problem. In fact, Joe has an uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time. At the moment ‘anywhere’ means ‘on Nick’s shoulder.’

It’s not exactly the first time his brother’s fallen asleep on top of Nick. In fact, Nick has gotten very good at shifting Joe back into his own seat without waking him. This particular time, Nick finds he doesn’t really mind. It’s a short flight, five hours or so, but it’s been a long, hard week getting ready for the tour. Nick isn’t surprised that Joe is tired.

The plane is quiet; Joe’s not the only one taking the time to rest and Nick is pretty sure he’s one of the sole people awake. Joe’s head is a warm, heavy weight on his shoulder, mouth open on soft snores and hair falling over his eyes. Nick shifts a little, careful not to jostle Joe, and stares out the window, deep in thought.

It’s been a crazy few weeks, not only from finding out Joe’s secret. Nick’s also had to adjust to this new side of his brother, this boy who slips into skirts and stockings every night, who shaves his legs and wears lingerie to bed. Nick has to admit that it’s been easier than he expected to get used to the idea of Joe cross-dressing. He thinks it has something to do with Joe’s attitude. Joe’s made every effort to act as natural as possible about what he’s doing. He doesn’t make it a secret when he changes; doesn’t bother to hide the happy, almost relieved smile that comes onto his face when he gets to wear something girly. There’s something almost aggressively casual about the way Joe tucks his skirts under his knee when he sits or flicks his hair out his eyes, and that’s made it easier for Nick to feel relaxed about it, too.

He wasn’t lying when he told Joe it suited him, Nick thinks as Joe snuffles softly and curls closer. It does. By all rights, seeing Joe in a dress should be a bizarre, possibly negative experience, but Nick just can’t see it like that, not when it’s so obvious how happy it makes Joe. There’s always an air of excitement when Joe is dressed up; it’s easy to see the extra boost of confidence he gets in the outfits that feel right on him.

Nick drifts out of his reverie to a painful crick forming in his neck and he turns his head, stretching. His chin nudges the top of Joe’s head and Nick rests it there for a moment, strangely comfortable with the close position. Joe’s hair is soft and smells faintly fruity. Nick closes his eyes, feeling peaceful.

“Aww.”

Nick’s eyes snap open and he realizes that Mom is standing over them, a fond smile on her face. He sits up properly, getting his nose out of Joe’s hair and smiling sheepishly at Mom. “He fell asleep on me,” Nick explains, even though it’s painfully obvious.

“I can see that.” Mom leans over and ruffles Nick’s curls, then strokes one finger down Joe’s cheek, soft and slack in sleep. “My sleepy boys. It’s nice to see you taking care of your brother.”

Nick nods blankly and Mom continues on her way with another small smile.

_Taking care_ , Nick thinks to himself as he settles back into his seat, Joe a warm presence at his side. _I kind of like that._

A few hours later, Joe wakes with a sigh and smiles drowsily at Nick. “Mm, you make a good pillow.”

Nick feels absurdly proud.

 

 

Nick stays late at rehearsal for the first show of the tour. The songs sound fine but Nick’s inner perfectionist is taking over. He feels the need to talk to everyone; the lighting guys, the horns players, Dad, the tour manager. It’s not a surprise when Kevin and Joe bail after awhile, heading back to the hotel. Nick knows the concert will probably be good no matter how long he spends double-checking every little detail, but he still feels calmer and more at ease when he finally opens the door to the hotel room.

“Nick?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Joe comes out of the bathroom with a welcoming smile. He’s wearing what passes for his pyjamas these days; a simple, pale blue cotton nightie that brushes his knees. “Everything up to standard, Mr President?” Joe asks as he sits down on the end of his bed and begins to unscrew the lid of a small plastic container.

Nick nods and flops onto his own bed, reaching for the TV remote. “It’s getting there, I guess.”

Joe gives him a knowing look. “Which means that it’s great according to everyone else but you’re still seeing room for improvement.”

He dips his fingers into the container and coats them in some thick creamy substance, stretching his legs out in front of him. Nick watches with interest as Joe leans forward and begins to rub it into one ankle.

Joe is looking at him expectantly as he continues to work in the cream, hand now travelling up his calf. Nick remembers the conversation and snaps back with a shrug. “I don’t know, there’s still stuff that could use work. I mean, ‘Sweet Caroline’ isn’t as smooth as I’d like and the horns still haven’t improved on the ‘Posion Ivy’ bridge like they need to and -” he shrugs again. “You know me, I just have to have everything exactly right.”

“It’s what makes you you.” Joe agrees. “It’ll be great, Nick. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Yeah,” Nick says reluctantly, forcing himself to not let the niggling worry get to him.

They fall into companionable silence. Nick tries to pay attention to the TV, but he’s distracted by Joe, who’s still massaging his leg in slow, graceful movements. “What are you doing?” Nick asks finally.

“Oh,” Joe colors slightly and his hand pauses, halfway up one thigh. “It’s just moisturiser. Normally I wouldn’t bother but since I started shaving, my skin’s been really dry.”

He resumes his work, leaning over the other leg now, and Nick tracks the movement of his hand. Nick’s never exactly given any thought to Joe’s legs before, but right now they seem so _there_ , all smooth and bare, so much skin showing. Joe has really nice legs, Nick thinks faintly, watching Joe’s hand as it rubs in the moisturiser, carving a path from ankle to calf to thigh.

“This makes my skin really soft.” Joe finishes, and Nick feels his own skin heat up a little as he thinks, _it looks really soft. I bet if I touched you there -_

The thought is new, unfamiliar and Nick has a moment to wonder just what the _hell_ is going on. Then Joe leans back to get at the highest part of his thighs, the nightie falling back and flashing Nick a glimpse of matching blue panties.

Nick’s mouth goes dry and he gasps in horror as he realizes he’s starting to get _hard_. He leans forward on instinct, curling over himself and trying to cover up the way his dick is bulging out against the front of his jeans.

“Nick?” Joe says, looking at him in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Mind racing and cheeks burning with embarrassment, Nick climbs off the bed. “Uh...headache. Just hit me, it really hurts. I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

“Do you need help?” Joe calls as Nick makes his escape, but Nick waves him off. “I’m fine, just need a minute alone, Joe!”

 

Nick goes out on the small balcony, slamming the door behind him. It’s cold outside and he curls his hands over the hard metal of the railing, breathing deeply and trying to get a handle on himself.

He thinks about the unsexiest things he can imagine, uses every method he knows to get rid of the unwelcome erection, and it’s only once it goes away that Nick has a chance to question what on earth just happened.

Nick is sixteen and is not a stranger to popping boners for no reason. He knows that it’s pretty normal, but what’s not normal is getting hard from perving on your brother just because he has nice legs.

And there he goes again. Thinking about Joe having nice legs. Nick should not be even considering what kind of legs Joe has. Joe is his brother and the only thing Nick should know about his legs is that he has them.

Nick should not have noticed the shape of Joe’s calves, the slender, almost delicate line of his ankles contrasted with the generous curve of his thighs. Nick should not have thoughts about soft skin. He should not be able to remember what it felt like to touch Joe’s leg that first day he wore a skirt.

He should not want to do it again.

 

 

The panic subsides slightly as Nick takes a moment to think, breathing in the cold night air. It couldn’t be because it was Joe’s legs, he tells himself. They were just legs, and Nick has always kind of had a thing for nice legs. The fact that Joe was wearing a skirt at the time has scrambled Nick’s thoughts, turned everything upside down, that’s all.

Yeah. Nick had to look at Joe because Joe was wearing a skirt and that’s new and different. Of course Nick was fascinated. Then he was looking at a nice pair of legs and his body forgot that those legs belonged to his brother. It was a totally natural reaction for Nick to get hard.

It’s fine, Nick reassures himself shakily as he stare unseeing over the blinking lights of the street below. Everything’s fine.

 

 

Nick has no idea how long he stays out on the balcony before Joe comes looking for him. The glass door slides open silently and Joe steps up beside him, frowning. “Head still hurt?”

“It’s fine,” Nick replies, not meeting Joe’s eyes. He shifts awkwardly, pretending to be enormously interested in the cityscape below. “Went away almost as soon as I got out here.”

Joe nods. “Weird,” he comments, but he’s still looking at Nick curiously, like he can’t tell whether Nick is lying to him.

They’re quiet for a moment until Joe nudges Nick and says, “Whoa, did you see the moon?”

Nick looks up. The moon is full and huge, casting a silvery glow over them, and Nick can’t believe he didn’t notice it before. “Wow,” he breathes.

“I’m totally going to the moon someday,” Joe says with a grin as he stares up. “If Lance Bass can do it, so can I.”

Nick laughs. “I don’t think he ended up going, Joe. Besides, basing anything you do on Lance Bass is not a good idea.”

Joe nudges his shoulder. “Shut up, you liked ‘Bye Bye Bye’ just as much as the rest of us.”

“At least I didn’t buy it and learn the dance moves,” Nick teases, forgetting his own discomfort and settling into the easy, familiar rhythm of their banter.

Joe shrugs good-naturedly. “I love that song. N*Sync were awesome,” he puts on a high voice, his ‘fangirl impression’ voice, and continues, “and they were such _babes_!”

Nick chuckles. “God, you’re such a girl sometimes.”

 

 

It’s an old insult, one of those used on each other a million times. Nick hadn’t counted on how different it would sound with Joe standing beside him wearing what is, by all intents and purposes, a dress.

Joe’s head snaps around to look at him, and the expression on his face is so _happy_. Surprised, yes, but there’s a huge smile on his lips and his cheeks have pinked up. “Yeah,” Joe looks down at himself and smooths the nightie down his chest. “I guess I am.”

It’s amazing how such a little thing could have that effect - one word and Joe’s smile could light up a room. Nick stares at him, always so fascinated with this new, complicated version of his brother. Joe tips his head back again, looking up at the moon as though embarrassed by his reaction.

All that, that rush of joy that Nick saw in Joe’s expression, so easily brought on just by making Joe feel feminine for one tiny moment. That’s what Joe _needs_ , Nick realizes, and the sudden understanding is like being hit by a sledgehammer.

All this time Nick has been trying to get his head around Joe’s cross-dressing, trying to get used to seeing Joe in skirts and dresses, trying to figure out what it means. Until now, Nick has only had a rough idea of the effect the clothes have on Joe. He knows they make Joe happy, but it’s been much more complicated to figure out _why_.

“It’s never been about the clothes, has it?” Nick asks suddenly, feeling like he’s putting the puzzle pieces together in his head as he talks.

Joe looks at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

Nick waves his hand vaguely at Joe’s outfit. “I mean, it’s not really about the clothes, is it? It’s how you feel when you wear them.”

Joe’s eyes widen slightly and he nods slowly. “Yeah,” he says. “They help me feel...” he shrugs. “It’s cheesy, but they help me feel like _me_. Like who I am inside.”

“That’s why you’re happiest when you’re dressed up,” Nick says. “Because they make you feel like a girl.”

Joe looks at him thoughtfully for a moment and then nods, looking pleased.

“I feel like I should have known ages ago,” Nick says sheepishly. Joe shivers slightly as he nods again and Nick’s eyes widen, realizing Joe’s still only wearing the nightie. “Jeez, you must be freezing.”

He unbuttons his jacket and drapes it over Joe’s bare shoulders, pulling it tight around him. Joe smiles at him gratefully and Nick thinks those words again. _Taking care._

Because that’s what brothers do, right?

 

 

The next day, Nick pulls on the jacket on the way out the door. It’s not until they reach the elevator that Nick realizes something is different. The jacket has a new scent to it - something sweet and delicate, like vanilla or some kind of flower. It clings to the fabric, wafting up into Nick’s nose every time he moves. _Joe_ , Nick thinks, _it must be from Joe borrowing it._ He recognises the faint hint of Joe’s shampoo, the same fruity smell he noticed on the plane.

Having Joe’s fragrance hovering in the air around him distracts Nick all day. Every time he thinks it’s faded he gets another hit of it, heady and intoxicating. When did Joe start to smell so good?

When did Joe start to smell like a _girl?  
_

 

The first week of the tour goes off without a hitch, and in celebration Nick suggests they go out to dinner in New York on Sunday night.

“Did you call Kev?” Joe asks as they step into the elevator.

“Uh,” Nick says, fumbling. How did he forget to invite Kevin?

“He’s Skyping with Dani,” Nick lies. “Said he was just gonna order room service.”

“Oh, cool. Just us, then.”

“Just us.”

 

They decide to walk the short distance from the hotel. It’s a warm, breezy night and Nick is glad of the chance to see more of New York. It’s one of his favourite cities, lively and modern and always changing. Joe walks beside him, their hips and shoulders bumping as they keep close in the busy streets.

The restaurant is a small, intimate little Italian place that their Mom found last time they were in New York. The walls are covered in beautiful murals of the Italian countryside and the host is smart enough to seat them at a discreet, out of the way table.

Their waitress is a tall, elegant girl with long blonde hair and bright red lips. Nick’s pretty sure she recognizes them because her eyes light up and she’s grinning at them as the takes their drinks order. “I’m Arianna,” she says, leaning over Joe to fill his water glass. “But you can call me Annie if you want.”

Then she winks at Joe and adds, “I’ll be taking care of you tonight, let me know if you need anything at all.”

“Thanks,” Joe says, totally missing the wink and turning to Nick. “Oh man, I am starving.”

Arianna (and what kind of name is that, anyway, Nick thinks) looks very slightly abashed as she leaves the table and Nick smirks, opening his menu.

She comes back before Nick has even read past the entrees, speaking directly to Joe. “So, can I get you some garlic bread to start with?”

Joe shrugs. “Nick, you want?”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, could I get a diet soda please?” She seems to have missed the fact that she hasn’t gotten Nick a drink yet.

Arianna spares Nick half a glance and a nod before smiling brightly at Joe. “So, garlic bread?”

 

Nick’s soda finally arrives about ten minutes later, dumped unceremoniously in front of him as Arianna presents the garlic bread to Joe with the air of unveiling a precious treasure. “Garlic bread,” she trills. “Are you ready to order, sir? I hear the oysters are amazing tonight, they’re an aphrodisiac, you know.”

She winks _again_. Who the hell does this girl think she is?

Nick clears his throat. “We’re not quite ready to order yet. And Joe hates oysters.”

Arianna actually glares at him as though he’s the one interrupting _her_ night. “Fine,” she says coldly. “I’ll give you a few more minutes.”

 

 

The girl has to be one of the most annoying waitresses Nick has ever had the misfortune of meeting. She keeps finding ridiculous reasons to come to their table and attempt to flirt with Joe, and even when she’s not serving them Nick can see her, in the corner of his eye. She’s been eyeing Joe since the moment they walked in and it just makes Nick angry, because Joe is not here to be hit on by slutty waitresses, Joe is here to spend time with _Nick._

He is gratified by the fact that Joe seems utterly oblivious to Arianna’s attention. When she comes to refill his soda (for the fifth time in ten minutes), Joe barely glances at her as she hovers, waiting for a response. Joe takes a sip of his drink and turns back to Nick. “The show last night was incredible, wasn’t it?” he finally looks up at the waitress and nods distractedly. “Oh, thanks. Nick, Did you see those girls in the alien costumes? I so need to get one of those for soundcheck one day, that would be so cool...”

 

Joe excuses himself for the bathroom just as Arianna is approaching them for their dinner order. She starts to back away but Nick waves her over. “It’s okay, we’re ready.”

Disgruntled, she flips her hair over her shoulder and pulls out her notepad. “What do you want?”

“I’m having the fettuccine carbonara, and he’ll have the chicken parmigiana with a side salad.”

She glances uncertainly in the direction of the bathrooms. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

Nick feels a surge of impatience. “I’m sure,” he says firmly, snapping his menu shut. “No dressing on the salad and extra tomato, please.”

She huffs and leaves the table.

When Joe returns to his seat, he stretches his foot out and nudges it against Nick’s, his foot hooking around Nick’s ankle and shoe resting on Nick’s calf through the pants. It’s a casual touch, Joe’s foot unmoving once he finds the comfortable spot, but Nick enjoys the warmth of it. 

When the food arrives, Joe reaches out and grabs a forkful of Nick’s pasta before he even has a chance to taste it. “Mmm,” Joe hums, jabbing his fork at Nick’s plate. “That’s really good, you’ll love it.”

He starts to pick the tomatoes out of his salad and the ever-hovering Arianna comes back with an apologetic smile. “Oh, I thought he said extra tomatoes but you must have not wanted any. I’m so sorry.”

Joe shakes his head. “Nah, it’s perfect. They’re not for me.”

He piles the tomato onto a slide plate and passes them over to Nick, then cuts his chicken in half as Nick begins to spoon his pasta onto Joe’s plate.

“We could have done a side of pasta instead of a salad, sir,” Arianna pipes up as they continue to split their meals between them. “You don’t have to share.”

“I like sharing,” Joe says offhandedly, eyes narrowed in concentration as he divides the salad carefully.

She doesn’t move from the table and Nick glares. “Thank you,” he says pointedly. “We have everything we need.”

 

Pesky waitresses aside, dinner is pretty fantastic. Not only does everything taste amazing, it's just so easy to talk to Joe. It's always been like that, with the two of them. They can jump from topic to topic - new songs, the fans, their friends, that time when they were little and Joe accidentally locked himself in a cupboard for three hours - it doesn't really matter. Nick feels relaxed and comfortable in a way he rarely is with anyone else. Their ankles stay twined together under the table, and it feels right, this new closeness forming between them, the way it feels somehow special to be out like this with Joe, just the two of them. It's almost - and Nick doesn't know how he didn't notice it before - it's almost like a _date._

If it is, it’s definitely the easiest date Nick’s ever been on. He doesn’t stop once to second-guess himself, doesn’t have to worry about what to say or how to say it. He’s comfortable but not bored, relaxed but engaged, and it may be weird to be on an almost-date with his brother but Nick’s not complaining.

Dessert comes almost too soon; a fruit salad for Nick and some triple chocolate fudge monstrosity for Joe. Arianna sets the plate in front of Joe and murmurs, “Hmm, looks _delicious_.”

She’s not looking at the food. She’s staring right at Joe, openly admiring, and Nick seriously cannot believe this girl. They’ve had crazy fans throw themselves at them before, but really? At her _job_ _?_

“Thank you very much.” Nick says through gritted teeth. She ignores him. “That’s really the kind of dessert you just wanna...swallow whole, isn’t it?” she says to Joe, licking her lips.

Joe smiles casually at her. “Looks great, thanks.”

Arianna sighs and mercifully leaves them alone.

Joe turns to Nick. “I don’t even care if it screws with your levels, I’m pretty sure you have to try this.”

Nick laughs. “You try it first and tell me if it’s as sweet as it looks.”

Joe dips his spoon into the dark chocolate cake, eyes sliding closed in pleasure as he takes the first bite. “Oh. My. God,” he moans softly.

“Good?” Nick asks, and for some reason his voice comes out all husky and thick as he watches Joe take another bite.

“That is literally the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.”

Nick swallows against a sudden lump in his throat, stomach doing a flip when Joe licks his lips and goes for a spoonful of whipped cream.

“Seriously, Nick, this is amazing. If I could make out with this dessert, I would.”

_You already are_ , Nick thinks, completely forgetting his own meal and staring as Joe savours every morsel of chocolate. He can feel his body reacting without his consent, heat sparking in his belly and breath not coming out right. Nick should look away, he really, really should leave the table and make himself calm down, but _he can’t stop looking at Joe’s mouth._

Thank God Joe is too immersed in the dessert to notice, because Nick has no way to explain the way he’s looking at his brother now. Joe does speak to him once, to offer Nick a taste again, but Nick just coughs and chokes out, “I think you have it covered.”

Arianna walks by, carrying the food for another table, and Nick almost can’t blame her when she slows down, gaze locked on Joe as he practically makes love to the dessert. He still manages to tear himself away from Joe to give the girl another death-glare, and she hurries away.

Nick tracks every movement greedily, eyes locked on Joe’s pink mouth and the way he licks up every drop of chocolate sauce, every smudge of cream that settles in the corner of his lips. When Joe’s nearly finished, he swirls his finger in the fudge and sucks it and Nick nearly _dies._

There’s butterflies in Nick’s stomach, he’s half hard under the table and he’s forgotten how to talk.

_Now_ it feels like a date.

 

 

When Arianna brings the check, she sets it down in front of Joe and purrs, “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?”

Joe opens his mouth to answer but Nick snatches the check away and hands her his credit card. “Thank you,” he says for the millionth time, and doesn’t know why she doesn’t realize it means _GO AWAY_.

He can see her trying not to roll her eyes at him. “Fine,” she says icily, and flounces off.

Joe pulls out his wallet and begins to rifle through it, presenting Nick with a handful of crisp bills. “Here, just take whatever I owe you.”

Nick doesn’t take them. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“But Nick -” Joe frowns and tries to thrust the money at him again. “This is a nice place.”

Nick puts his hand over Joe’s, pushing it back. “And I’m paying. Deal with it.”

“Oh,” Joe relents, tucking the money back in his wallet. He smiles, at Nick, brown eyes warm, and says, “Thanks.”

It feels natural for Nick to open the restaurant door for Joe on the way out. The smile Joe gives him as he steps through is the reward and he pretends to fiddle with his coat sleeves so Joe doesn’t notice his reaction.

They walk home slowly, taking time to people-watch and talk as they stroll. Joe starts to point out people they see on the street, making up stories about them. 

“What about them?”

Nick points out a group, two boys and a girl, laughing raucously at a bus stop. Joe nods wisely. “Complicated,” he says. “You see, she once dated one of them and now just wants to be friends, and now she likes the other one but she doesn’t want to date him in case she hurts her ex’s feelings.”

Nick is about to answer when Joe falls against him suddenly, jostled by a large crowd of tourists. Joe grabs for Nick’s elbow to steady himself. “Whoa, you good?”

“Yeah.” Joe leaves his hand on Nick’s elbow as he straightens up and starts walking again. Nick doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds himself itching to slip his hand into Joe’s, lace their fingers together as they walk home. Joe’s hand slides down his forearm, squeezes for a moment and then lets go. Nick is momentarily disappointed.

About a block from the hotel, Joe suddenly turns to Nick with a grin. “Race you,” he says, and breaks into a run before Nick can even open his mouth to respond. Nick recovers quickly and sprints after him, feet pounding on the pavement and narrowly dodging several shocked New Yorkers. Joe has too much of a head-start, however. By the time Nick has reached the front doors of the hotel Joe is already there, arms raised in victory.

“Cheater,” Nick pants as they head for the elevator.

“Sore loser,” Joe responds.

They’re both flushed and giggly when the elevator doors close behind them, and Nick can feel sweat beading on his temples in the small, hot space. Joe’s hair is wild and messy, curling at the ends. “Oh man, your hair,” Nick says with a grin, and reaches out to fix it, tucking the long strands behind Joe’s ear. They both stop laughing and Nick doesn’t let go as fast as he should. He just stands there for a moment, fingers curled in Joe’s hair as Joe blinks slowly at him.

“Worth it,” Joe breathes.

Nick kind of has to shake his head to figure out what Joe is saying. “What?”

“Worth it. Messing up my hair to beat you.”

Joe leans in and kisses Nick quickly on his cheek. “That’s to say sorry for beating the snot out of you in that race,” he says, hovering for a moment before adding, “And this is for a great night out.” He kisses Nick’s other cheek, lingering, and Nick can’t stop smiling.

 

[Part Four](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154943.html#cutid1)

 


	4. The Lady Is Mine - Part Four

 

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1)     [Part One](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154248.html#cutid1)     [Part Two](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)      [Part Three](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154874.html#cutid1)  

 

Joe can feel that things are changing between him and Nick. Ever since Nick found out Joe's secret he's become even more important, even more of a rock for Joe, a shoulder to lean on. Joe's a nineteen year old boy who hasn't quite figured out who he is yet, but it's been pretty much the best thing ever to have Nick by his side through it all. From what he's read when he sneaks online to look up transgendered support groups, an accepting family can be hard to come by. Joe has never been so grateful for Nick's ability to see past all the issues and just be what Joe needs.

Apparently, what Joe needs is to be taken care of. Nick is paying so much attention to him these days and Joe's never felt more treasured than he does when Nick is around. The way Nick treats him now – like he’s special, like he’s the most important person in any room – it’s doing wonders for Joe's confidence at the same time as it make his heart flutter with something entirely different than just having an awesome brother.

It's not just that, either. There's this new heat between them, too, this spark that Joe gets in his belly when he lets his gaze slide over Nick's wide shoulders, his newly muscled arms. He starts wondering what it would be like to kiss Nick, what Nick would taste like, how his arms would feel wrapped around Joe's waist.

It's surprising to Joe that it doesn't freak him out as much as it should, these new feelings he has for his little brother. That's because somehow, it doesn't feel all that new. Joe's always had this special place in his heart for Nick, has always known that he would do anything for him, that Nick would always be his very favourite person in the world. They've gravitated to each other their whole lives, sharing bedrooms, clothes, secrets, dreams. Joe has never had a plan for the future that didn't somehow include Nick. It makes sense to him that this journey he's on, this discovery of who he really is, has been shared with Nick on almost every step.

This thing between them - this little dance of almost-more-but-not - just feels like another part of _them_. Sure, Joe's nervous about what's coming, but not because Nick is his brother. It's the same excited, happy nervous that he feels whenever he likes a new person. And it's all the better because it's _Nick_ , the boy Joe's always loved, just in a different way, now.

 

 

 

At dinner with their family, Dad is talking plans for the week while Frankie regales Kevin with stories about what he's been up to with his friends lately. Joe eats quietly, watching Nick on the opposite side of the table as he chats with Mom.

Restless, Joe sticks his foot out under the table and flails around a bit until he catches the edge of Nick's sneakers. He kicks at him a little and Nick nudges back at him. Joe grins and keeps going, tapping at Nick with his socked foot until Nick's competitive spirit kicks in and it becomes a real game.

Nick's poker face is pretty good, keeping up his end of the conversation with Mom even as Joe runs his toes up Nick's calf towards his knee. He knows Nick's especially ticklish there and Nick jumps a little when Joe pokes at his knee. He shoots Joe a look and Joe can tell he's trying to be stern but there's a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. Joe just smiles in return and stretches out his other leg to find Nick's foot.

The playful battle continues quietly for the rest of dinner, Nick grinning in triumph whenever he gets in a particularly good jab. It's times like these that Joe doesn't worry at all about things with Nick. They can still be brothers - still play around and just have fun with each other, still be best friends, even with this new layer to their relationship. This new layer that, in fact, makes itself known a few minutes later.

Joe's talking to Kevin about - something, he's not really sure, actually, but he's pretty sure it's not important. He thinks it's something to do with the places Kevin wants to visit on their time off this tour.

"I really want to see South America, you know?" Kevin is saying. "We should have a couple of days just to do some tourist-y stuff."

"Totally," Joe agrees. "Oh man, we gotta meet some llamas and like, learn how to make really awesome food and go for a tour in some rainforest or something -"

As he talks, Joe moves his foot up Nick's leg, past his knee to rest on his thigh. In his head, it's just because he's more comfortable like that, but then Nick's hand lands on his foot and he raises his eyebrows at Joe. Joe is suddenly very, very aware of just how close his foot is to Nick's crotch right now.

He flexes his foot a little, digging his heel into Nick's thigh and slumping in his seat so he can reach forward more, just to see how close Nick will let him. Just to test it out.

He sees Nick draw in a quick breath as Joe's toes nudge closer and closer towards his body, creeping up his inner thighs now. Joe feels powerful and giddy with it, being able to have this effect on his brother just by playing this little game.

Of course, because Nick is Nick and Nick wins everything, he manages to turn it in his favour.

Joe is still turned toward Kevin as he teases Nick, acting totally nonchalant as his foot presses forward toward his goal. "Dude, you know what I really want to..."

Joe trails off in shock when he feels Nick's hand, big and warm, wrap tightly around his ankle. He glances at Nick and Nick smirks. "What's wrong, Joe?"

"N-nothing." Joe tries to pull his foot out of Nick's grip but Nick doesn't budge. Actually, he slides up the loose leg of Joe's pants and holds him there again, this time loosely, soft fingers on smooth skin.

"Joe?"

"Uh. Yeah, what I really want to do is - I think we should - " Nick's fingers stroke, maddeningly light, over Joe's ankle, tracing patterns and swirls in slow teasing movements over the suddenly sensitive skin, and Joe can't seem to finish the sentence.

Joe swallows, heat rushing to his face. He feels tingly all over, the intimate touch driving him wild. He's beginning to think that Nick has developed some kind of fetish for Joe's hairless legs, if the way he strokes the bare skin is any indication.

Kevin seems to think Joe's playing a joke on him by refusing the finish what he was saying. He frowns. "Real mature, Joe."

He turns away to talk to someone else and Joe shoots Nick a look. Nick just smirks again and keeps moving his hands on Joe's skin.

 

 

 

After the Florida leg of the world tour, they have a weekend off in Miami before they move on, and the promise of being properly alone with Nick for a whole weekend is what pushes Joe through some pretty tiring concerts. It's not that he's not enjoying himself or anything, far from it, it's just that they've already been going for over a month by the time they hit Miami and he's starting to get that burned out tour feeling, that exhaustion that settles deep in his bones after too many late nights and long days.

Their parents make use of the break to take Frankie back to Texas and visit the family, while Kevin flies Danielle down and books them both into a separate hotel. Joe doesn't know why he bothers, really - he and Nick have known for ages that Kevin's been sharing a bed with his wife-to-be for months now, and good on him, Joe thinks. But he supposes that Kevin enjoys some semblance of privacy, and he can't complain that there's much less of a chance of Kevin knocking on their door while he and Nick are...busy. Not that - not that anything is going to _happen_ , necessarily, but...Joe knows the opportunity is there, is all.

 

 

Their first day off dawns bright and sunny, and when Joe rolls over with a pleased sigh - he always forgets how good it is to sleep in for once - he finds Nick sitting in the window seat, notebook open on his lap and looking pensive.

"You writing a song?"

"Not sure," Nick replies, closing the notebook and looking over at Joe. "I have this melody, but,” he shrugs. “We'll see. So, what do you want to do today?"

"Mmm," Joe murmurs, pressing himself back into the pillows and clinging to that sleepy-snuggly feeling that means you never want to leave the bed, ever. "Sleep."

Nick chuckles. "It's like, noon. Don't you think we should make the most of today?"

"Yeah, by sleeping. Sleeping is awesome, Nick. You should try it sometime."

"I was thinking of going to the beach," Nick says. "Just go for a walk, stop for lunch, maybe. What do you think?"

Joe shrugs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes but not moving from under the covers. He's _so_ comfy.

"Yeah, alright. But no challenging me to a surfing contest or something. I want to actually relax on our day off for once."

"Relaxation is the goal." Nick promises. "But you kind of have to get out of bed before we can do anything."

"Alright, alright." Joe throws the covers back and crawls out of bed, trying to ignore the heat of Nick's gaze on him as he wanders toward the bathroom.

This is a new game they play, too. Nick stares whenever Joe wears his girl-clothes, and Joe pretends not to notice Nick staring. He's not even wearing anything spectacular today - he was too exhausted after the show last night to even really pay attention to what he pulled from this bag before bed.

Looking down, Joe realises that all he's wearing is a pair of pink and white polka dot pyjama pants, a loose fit that sit low on this hips. He glances back over his shoulder at Nick and Nick looks away hurriedly, his eyes darting up from where he was clearly checking out Joe's ass. Joe feels that same little thrill that's started to zing through him whenever Nick looks at him like that. Maybe something will actually happen between them this weekend.

 

 

The beach is as crowded as expected on a hot Saturday afternoon, so Nick drives along the coast for another half an hour until they find an area that's pretty secluded. They amble along the shore for a couple of hours, sometimes talking, sometimes just looking out over the water and enjoying the sunlight on their skin.

Joe tans a deep gold in the sun and even Nick might get a bit darker after today, but Joe likes the way Nick gets this little pink line of sunburn over his nose and under his eyes. It's cute, and so is the way Nick squints against the sunlight when they talk, and the way Nick carries Joe's shoes for him when Joe decides that barefoot is the only way to enjoy this.

They come upon a rocky area, full of tiny little pools of water with starfish and strange little creatures at the bottom. The rocks are slippery with water and algae, and Nick offers his hand to Joe to keep him balanced as they pick their way across. They find the strangest looking crab at the bottom of the deepest rock-pool and crouch to watch it for at least ten minutes. The crab is tiny and fast, bright orange with little blue marks all over it. When it darts out the top of the pool and over the rocks toward them, Joe shrieks like, well, a girl, and nearly kills himself getting out of its way. Nick laughs at him for longer than is strictly necessary.

Getting off the rocks is harder than they expect. It's a four foot drop from the slippery rock onto more rocks, then the sand. Joe can just see one of them slipping and breaking their ankle on the way down. They stand there and eye it for a moment, and then Joe shrugs and says, "Okay, let's go." He starts to lower himself down, turning around and feeling with his toes for the first foothold. "No!" Nick says suddenly. "Let me go first."

Joe pauses, scrunching his face up in confusion. "Why?"

Nick rolls his eyes. "So you don't hurt yourself, duh." He tugs at Joe's arm until Joe stands upright again, then turns and starts to carefully pick his way down.

Joe is still frowning. He knows he's the clumsy one, but really? "What if you hurt yourself?"

Nick smirks. "That's not going to happen."

He does make it down safely, and he stands at the bottom and waits as Joe climbs down. It's a bit tricky but Joe makes it down the big rock and onto the smaller one, and that's what he somehow manages to slip on. He falls forward, heart leaping, but Nick catches him, wrapping his arms around Joe's waist and stumbling backwards a little as he takes Joe's weight.

Safely on the sand, Nick's arms are still tight around him as Joe catches his breath. "Alright?"

"Yeah." Joe says. He looks at Nick and is suddenly very aware of how close they're standing. Nick's hands are hot on Joe's back, their hips pressing together through their trunks, chests touching. Joe can't seem to get his breathing to go back to normal. Nick is just staring at him, mouth parted and eyes wide. Joe sways forward, eyes closing -

"Ohmygod, are you guys the JONAS BROTHERS?"

Nick lets go of Joe like he's been burned, jumping away and turning toward the prepubescent girl jogging up the beach toward them.

 

 

Joe passes through the rest of the day in a sort of daze, wondering what would have happened if that fan hadn't interrupted them at the beach. Joe’s pretty sure there would have been a kiss involved, and he wants that so, so badly.

They go to lunch together and he can't stop looking at Nick's mouth, his lips pursing around the straw of a milkshake, the little dot of ice-cream on the corner of his mouth. Nick seems distracted as well, his sentences trailing off in stutters when Joe licks his lips or runs his fingers through his hair. Joe's never felt anticipation like this before, the excitement rushing under his skin and making him feel shaky with it.

He can't wait to get Nick alone, but even on a break, real life beckons. Nick's got a phone meeting with the Bayer Diabetes people, so Joe goes to the hotel gym for a few hours, trying to clear his head a bit. While he's towelling down, he finds a text message blinking on his phone. Nick.

_Did you want to? At the beach, when I caught you. Did you want to...?_  
  
Joe pauses, blinking slowly at the message. It's the first time either of them have acknowledged anything is happening between them.

_Yeh, I wanted to : >~_

A couple of minutes, then:

_I would have let you._

Joe grins and only waits a minute before typing out:

_Come on, Nick. Every1 noes the girl's not sposed to make the first move ;^)_

Nick’s response is almost immediate and Joe gasps when he reads it.

_Come upstairs._

 

 

Joe's rushing for the elevator when Jordin accosts him in the hallway. "We're having a movie marathon in my room. You and Nick are invited, and I won't take no for an answer."

"Oh, thanks, but we were going to -"

"No excuses! First movie's Spiderman, it's a pyjama party so you'll have to get changed and bring some pillows. Be there in ten." Jordin grins winningly at him and heads back to her own room.

"But -"

Jordin turns and makes a determined face. "You owe me, Jonas. I didn't tell Kevin that you were the one who dropped his favourite guitar backstage last week. You are coming."

Joe can only sigh helplessly and try not to be too disappointed.

 

 

The movie marathon is actually really fun. Jordin's there, and so are her backup singers Leah and Kara, who Joe's always liked, as well as Garbo and Jesse. Joe and Nick end up sharing one of the couches, Jordin and the girls on duvets they piled on the floor in front of the TV while Garbo and Jesse take an armchair each. There's popcorn and soda and Tobey Maguire wearing lycra, and Joe feels like this is what he should have been doing when he was sixteen; just being a normal teenager.

For the first movie, he and Nick sit a respectable distance apart on the couch, a foot of cushion between them. By the time Peter Parker is abandoning Mary Jane in a graveyard, the space has closed a little, and Joe realises that they're drifting closer to each other without even noticing. They put Spiderman 2 in, and by twenty minutes in Joe is pressed to Nick's side, their shoulders brushing through their pyjamas.

They tug a blanket over their laps and Joe keeps his eyes firmly on the screen when he feels Nick reach tentatively for his hand under the blanket. Joe takes it, folding their hands together and feeling warmth tingling under his fingertips where they're touching Nick's.

A few minutes later, Nick brushes his thumb slowly over Joe's knuckles. Joe flicks his hair out from behind his ear and hides his helpless smile behind it as he returns the gesture. It becomes a game for the next hour and a half - Nick squeezing Joe's hand or stroking his palm and Joe doing the same thing back a moment later. Joe's heart leaps every single time and he completely loses track of the film, tuning back in to find that it's nearly over and Peter Parker is standing in his ratty apartment with Mary Jane in a wedding dress.

They stop for a break and Joe reluctantly releases Nick's hand as they stand and stretch slowly, arguing with Jordin about whether it's time for a chick flick or not. When the next film starts, Nick settles back into his seat and lifts one arm to rest on the back of the couch. It could be construed as totally casual, but the hopeful look he sends Joe means something different. Joe glances quickly around the room, making sure everyone's eyes are on the screen before he lays down, resting his head on the side of Nick's chest, over his heart. Nick's arm drapes over him, hand coming to rest on Joe's upper arm, and Joe takes a deep breath and tries to pay attention to the movie.

It's pretty difficult, especially when Jesse and Garbo go back to their rooms and Jordin and the girls have fallen asleep on the floor. Joe doesn't absorb a second of the movie. His attention is attuned directly to Nick's body underneath his, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his t-shirt soft against Joe's cheek. Nick is tracing slow circles in the skin of Joe's arm with his fingers, and Joe has never been so aware of a single touch. He feels like he hasn't taken a full breath all day, and Nick's heart is beating a quick tha-thump beneath him, speeding up when Joe cuddles in closer.

Everything goes slow and sleepy-soft, the television glowing dully in the dark room, the girls snoring quietly. Joe drifts, eyelids going heavy, lulled by the comfort of Nick's embrace.

Nick moves his hand away from Joe's arm and Joe has a moment to mourn the loss before he feels Nick's fingers carding through his hair instead.

The touch moves from his hair to his neck, tracing the line of his jaw, his chin.

Joe closes his eyes, holding his breath, heart pounding, when Nick's fingers pass slowly over his mouth, a question. Joe opens his mouth a fraction, closing his lips over the tip of Nick's finger in the barest hint of a kiss.

Above him, Nick sucks in a shaky breath.

"Let's go back to the room." Nick's voice is a hoarse whisper and Joe makes himself ask, "Why?"

Nick leans over him, putting his mouth right to Joe's ear and whispering against the hot skin. "So I can kiss you."

 

 

Joe honestly doesn't know how he gets from Jordin's hotel room to his own, but there they are, suddenly, the door shutting behind them with a soft thud. Joe leans back against it and waits for Nick to say, to _do_ something. Nick is standing opposite him, not three feet away, paused, staring. Nick looks tired and young in his sweats, curls ruffled from lying down, eyes glassy from the movie marathon. Joe wants to kiss him until he can't see straight, but he knows that Nick is doing some thinking right now, that he has to wait for Nick to come to him.

Nick approaches slowly, until they're toe to toe, chest to chest, breathing against each other. Joe knows his eyes are wide and wanting, giving everything away, but it doesn't matter, not when Nick's looking at him the same way. Not when Nick's pressing ever closer. He brushes a lock of hair out of Joe's eyes, tucking it behind his ear, flicking his gaze from Joe's eyes to his mouth, then back again. Joe is pretty sure whoever's staying next door will be able to hear his heart pounding in his chest.

Nick's fingers are still in Joe's hair as he cups Joe's face in his other hand, his thumb brushing over Joe's cheekbone. Joe closes his eyes and turns his face into the touch, just a little.

"This is," Nick starts, and his voice is hesitant. Shaky. "This is kind of messed up, Joe."

Joe opens his eyes. "I'm kind of messed up," he tells Nick. "So it sort of fits that I want this, too."

"Are you -"

"Don't," Joe interrupts, "ask me if I'm sure. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Nick nods. He waits one long moment, gathering courage, maybe, before bringing his other hand up to Joe's face, cradling him as he leans in and kisses him for the first time.

It's chaste and sweet, Nick's mouth pressing gently against Joe's and holding there until Joe responds, parting his lips and kissing him back. Nick exhales gently against his mouth and his thumbs stroke across Joe's cheeks as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Joe feels like his heart's about to burst out of his chest and his brain is fizzling and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He flails for a moment before letting them land on Nick's sides, squeezing tightly.

Nick's hands feel huge and warm on his face, holding him so carefully, and his mouth is just as sweet and soft and perfect as Joe ever imagined, and he wonders how they could possibly have waited so long to do this, because this is _amazing._

 

 

 

[Part Five](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155326.html#cutid1)


	5. The Lady Is Mine - Part Five

 

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1)    [Part One](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154248.html#cutid1)     [Part Two](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)      [Part Three](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154874.html#cutid1)     [Part Four](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154943.html#cutid1) 

 

 

Tour starts again the next day and they don’t really have time to talk about it for a little while. Joe’s not sure exactly what’s supposed to happen next. Like, is there a protocol for how to act the day after your brother kisses you?

He barely gets a second alone with Nick to wonder about it, anyway. They’re far too busy, but Joe is reassured by the fact that Nick seems mostly normal. He looks Joe in the eye when they talk, tells Joe off for being foolish a few times, and makes them run through ‘Much Better’ a few thousand times. Pretty normal for Nick.

He knows it’s too much to expect them to fall into some kind of routine right away; knows it would be overly optimistic to imagine that they’re – well, _together_ or something. Whatever that even means when it's with your brother, anyway. It was just a kiss and honestly, Joe doesn’t know what it means, except that he kind of desperately wants it to happen again.

 

 

In the dressing room before the Cleveland show, there's people running in and out, carrying clothes and mics and guitar straps, talking into headsets in terse voices. Joe lets it all wash over him, lets it sink into his bones until he can feel the energy of it filling him up. He bounces on his feet, testing the soles of his sneakers and deciding tonight is going to be awesome.

"Yo, how many tonight?" he calls to the room at large.

"Twenty thousand at least," someone responds, and Joe grins wildly, wonders for the five millionth time how this could possibly be his _life._ He catches Nick's eye across the room and gives him a happy thumbs-up, which Nick returns, pausing in his conversation to smile at Joe.

Joe lets himself into the tiny dressing room bathroom to check his hair one more time and get himself in the right zone for the show. Part of getting ready for the concerts is hyping themselves up, jumping around and getting pumped, but sometimes Joe also likes a little moment, a little quiet, to center himself before he takes the stage and lets 'Joe Jonas: rock star' take over.

"Hey,"

It's Nick, opening the door and sliding into the small room to stand beside Joe at the sinks. Joe looks Nick over in his stage clothes - shiny sneakers and jeans, his special 'LVATT' t-shirt, the one that highlights his broad shoulders and narrow hips. It looks incredible on him and Joe turns away from the mirror to tell his brother so.

"Thanks," Nick says, smoothing down the shirt. He's probably trying to act humble but Joe knows Nick and knows that Nick is fully aware of the effect he has on the fans when he wears the damn thing. Nick's mouth quirks up in a half smile. "Pretty sure I'm going to sweat right through this," he says.

"Oh, I'm sure they won't mind." Joe says with a little laugh. "They're probably hoping for it."

“Of course they are,” Nick says confidently, fiddling with his curls.

“You should do a strip tease,” Joe teases. “In, hmm – in the bridge of Poison Ivy, just start taking it all off.”

He starts humming _You can leave your hat on_ and sways his hips, grinning.

Nick’s lips are twitching with the effort of not smiling and Joe keeps going, miming a stupid little strip tease until Nick gives in and laughs, eyes sparkling.

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

“What, I’m just trying to get you to take advantage of your _magnetic sex appeal,_ ” Joe says, quoting a recent magazine article.

“I’ll take advantage of your face,” Nick retorts nonsensically as Joe spins in a circle, still humming.

“Please stop dancing.”

“Make me.”

Nick presses forward and wraps his fingers around Joe’s wrists, holding them at his sides, and Joe stills but continues smiling at his brother.

“You’d be a terrible stripper.” Nick says.

“Oh no,” Joe lets his face fall dramatically. “And here I was planning it as my back up career.”

Nick laughs again and shakes his head. “You’ll just have to go for that janitor thing instead.”

“I would be an amazing janitor. Have you seen my skills with a mop, Nick, because really –“

Joe is cut off when Nick suddenly kisses him, pressing his mouth awkwardly to Joe’s while Joe’s mid-word. His lips kind of smush up against Joe’s teeth and Joe gasps in surprise even as Nick is already pulling away.

“Um,” Joe says, lost for words.

“Sorry!” Nick says, running his hands through his hair. “I just – you were smiling and I wanted – but I don’t know if we’re…doing that? I don’t know if you want me to leave you alone or -”

He looks at Joe questioningly, suddenly seeming hesitant. Completely different from the confident boy he was a few minutes ago.

“No!” Joe blurts. “I mean, yes. I mean, I want to. If you want to –“

He takes a deep breath and reaches for Nick’s hand, tugging him back again.

“Yes,” he says. “You can kiss me, Nick.”

“Good.” Nick breathes, and fits their mouths together. It’s much better this time and Nick licks at the seam of Joe's lips until Joe opens for him with a sigh. Joe closes his eyes, slipping his fingers into his brother’s curls as Nick’s hands settle warm and wide on his hips.

 

 

If there’s one thing that Joe learns about his brother over the next few weeks, it’s that he is an _amazing_ kisser. Seriously. Joe doesn’t know if it’s something he learned from Miley (in which case he’s considering sending flowers), or just a God-given talent, but whichever way, Joe is quickly becoming addicted to the taste of his brother’s mouth. He finds any excuse to kiss Nick – toothpaste-tinged morning kisses, fleeting secret kisses behind bathroom doors with Kevin waiting outside, and Joe’s personal favourite; long, intense make out sessions on the couch in their hotel room at night.

They’d come home from a concert still bouncing with the high of the crowd, not able to go to bed even though Joe’s body was aching with exhaustion. He’d changed into some of his more comfortable clothes – grey wool [skirt](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/diavf2128910495_p1_v1_m56577569832057042_254x500.jpg) and a cute little red [cardigan](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/9784.jpg) – before pulling Nick down onto the couch and tilting his head up for a kiss.

It’s been oh, at least twenty minutes since then and Joe’s head is turning to mush from Nick’s mouth on his. Nick kisses him slow and controlled, hands solid on Joe’s sides and tongue curling lazily against Joe’s. Joe’s lips feel swollen and hot, an ache starting to form in his jaw and want coiling thick and warm in his stomach. He twists his fingers in the bottom of Nick’s shirt, pushing up just a little to feel at the skin of Nick’s back and Nick shifts closer, skimming his hands up Joe’s sides to his shoulders.

Joe’s neck is hurting from staying in one place too long and he leans backwards against a pile of pillows, pulling Nick down to lie half on top of him, not breaking the wet join of their mouths. Nick is half hard against Joe’s hip and Joe knows his own erection is tenting up his skirt somewhat ridiculously; a lazy, slow sort of arousal that thrums under Joe’s skin. Nick’s weight on top of him is a shock of sensation and Joe is surprised at how much he likes it, Nick’s hips pressing him down into the couch.

Nick tongues at Joe’s mouth, plunging deep and hot while Joe’s fingers dig into the skin of Nick’s back, before Nick eases off teasingly; shallow, soft little pecks at Joe’s lips. Joe whines needily, opening his mouth and sucking on Nick’s tongue until Nick kisses him properly again.

Long minutes pass before Nick shifts back, their mouths parting with a slick, messy sound. “What’s wrong?” Joe asks, and Nick just shakes his head. His eyes are all glazed over, cheeks flushed with exertion, and Joe has to hold himself back from kissing him again right away.

“Have to breathe sometime.” Nick says with a crooked smile.

“Breathing is for losers.” Joe grins, but he’s kind of glad for the break, the chance to get his head together for a second.

Nick lets his head drop down and rest on Joe’s shoulder, breath puffing warmly against his neck. Joe gazes up at the ceiling, slides his hands up and down Nick’s back under his shirt while their breathing evens out.

Nick presses closer, his nose cold where it touches Joe’s neck. “What is that?” Nick asks suddenly, and Joe frowns in confusion. “What?”

“You smell really good,” Nick says, breathing in deep like he’s trying to place the scent. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Oh,” Joe squirms a little, half pleased and half embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s new. You like it?”

“Yeah, I do,” Nick hums, moving his head and breathing in again, then flickering his tongue against Joe’s collarbone. “Taste good, too.”

Joe flushes hotly and he bites his sore lips as his heart jumps at the contact. He murmurs Nick’s name and Nick kisses his neck again, moving Joe’s long hair gently out of the way to gain better access. His hands smooth over Joe’s shoulders, the material of Joe’s cardigan pushed back so Nick can play with the thin straps of the black tank top Joe’s wearing underneath.

Joe closes his eyes and arches his neck, blocking out everything except for the dizzying sensation of Nick’s mouth on him. He lays chaste, short kisses over Joe’s throat, skims his lips over Joe’s jaw and then sucks his earlobe gently between his teeth, nibbling. Joe makes a soft, helpless noise of want and Nick hums in response, nuzzling at the spot behind Joe’s ear where Joe dabbed on the perfume a few hours ago.

Nick’s hands skim down, down, following the line of the straps until his way is obstructed by the thin material of the cardigan. His fingers hover hesitantly over the buttons and he looks up at Joe, just a little uncertain, asking. Joe nods his permission and Nick undoes the first button with a flick of his thumb. Joe’s tank top is low-cut, low enough that the little triangle of skin Nick reveals is bare. Nick bends his head and kisses him there, and Joe’s heart races impossibly faster. Nick is bolder when he opens the next button, kissing again at every new bit of skin he finds.

It’s torturously, perfectly slow as Nick opens the cardigan button by button, mouth still moving on Joe’s shoulders, his collarbone, his chest, tiny little kisses that inch down toward the lacy edging of Joe’s top. Nick skims one hand across Joe’s chest, thumb brushing over the material of the top and just missing one of Joe’s nipples. Joe moans lowly and shifts into Nick’s touch, fully hard now and rubbing against Nick’s thigh where it’s pressed into him.

Nick’s mouth teases along the edge of Joe’s top, dotting kisses in a line, never lingering longer than a second. Joe feels desperate, ravenous, his skirt falling down his thigh when he frees a leg and hooks his foot around the back of Nick’s knee, pulling him down closer so he can feel Nick’s hard-on digging into his belly. The hand that’s not busy feeling up Joe’s chest curls around his knee where it’s pressed to Nick’s side. Nick pauses and looks up at him as his hand slides up Joe’s skirt a couple of inches. “Okay?” he asks hoarsely.

“Okay,” Joe nods fervently and rocks up, silently begging for Nick’s mouth again.

Nick grinds down, stroking Joe’s thigh under his skirt, and Joe’s whole body feels like it’s humming, buzzing, sparking with arousal from Nick’s hands, Nick’s mouth, _NickNickNick_. Nick opens his mouth over Joe’s chest, sinking his teeth in just long enough to sting and then soothing the hurt with his tongue. Joe’s lips part on a ragged groan and he lets his fingers curl tighter in Nick’s hair, pulling. “Oh, god,” he says. “Nick, Nick.”

He’s just wondering how far they should be taking this; how far this should go when it’s only been a few weeks, when a loud knock on the door makes the decision for him.

“NICK! You still have my Ipod in your bag!”

Frankie’s voice.

Joe startles and shoves Nick off him, fleeing in a blur of whirling skirt and puff of perfume. He gets to the bathroom and slams the door behind him, breathless.

There’s a minute of silence; Joe assumes that Nick is trying to find a way to cover himself up before opening the door. A minute after that, there’s a low murmur of voices, the door opening and closing and then Nick’s voice, telling Joe it’s safe to re-emerge.

“I think I’m going to have a shower and get ready for bed,” Joe pauses and adds, “A really cold shower.”

He hears Nick laugh, pleased. “Good idea.”

 

 

Joe strips, awkwardly manoeuvring the clothes around his aching cock, and steps into the lukewarm shower. He leans back under the spray and takes himself in hand, moving quick and desperate. It feels like he’s been hard for hours now and he groans, dick twitching when he runs his thumb over the head. He moves his other hand up his chest and presses down on the spot Nick bit. The little bloom of pain coupled with the memory of Nick’s mouth on him has Joe coming instantly, gasping and shuddering. He has to lean against the shower wall for a long moment, his legs refusing to support him.

Joe steps out of the shower in a daze, brushing his teeth and drying his hair on autopilot before wrapping himself in one of the hotel robes and stepping back into the room. Nick has turned off most of the lights and is sitting cross-legged on one of the beds in boxers and a tee, his phone giving off a soft glow as he sets the alarm for the morning. When he looks up, there’s a slight tinge of pink to Nick’s cheeks and his expression is bashful, sheepish. The clothes he was wearing earlier are nowhere in sight. Joe imagines his brother waiting for the sound of Joe’s shower before throwing himself back onto the cushions and shoving his jeans down his thighs to jerk off furiously while Joe’s perfume lingered in the air.

The thought makes him blush a little but it's a rush, too, to know that he can have that effect on Nick. He wonders what Nick looks like when he comes, whether he makes noise or holds it all in until he just can’t anymore, whether he closes his eyes or likes to watch himself spill wet over his fingers. Joe has to close his mind against the image; too tempting, and he’s already had one shower tonight.

Joe turns to his suitcase and carefully picks out shorts and a new top, suddenly feeling exhaustion hit him again. Sleep is looking really, really good right now. Nick is quiet as Joe dresses but it doesn’t feel awkward.

Joe slides into his own bed and curls up facing Nick, waiting until Nick rolls to look at him.

“So,” Joe says.

“So,” Nick says.

There’s a moment of silence before Joe puts on his best deep, cheesy reporter voice and asks, “Nicholas Jonas, you just reached second base! How does it feel?”

He holds his fist out between their beds as a fake microphone, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Nick gives Joe that superior, _you think you’re being funny but you’re just immature_ look that he perfected at the age of twelve. “Really, Joseph?”

Joe pulls his fake microphone back to his face. “Groping is an important milestone in any relationship, young man, and – mmph!”

Nick throws a pillow at him, hitting Joe square in the face, and Joe dissolves into giggles before launching it back and starting an all out war.

It lasts about five minutes before Joe admits defeat and slumps back into his bed, panting with laughter. “Goodnight, Nick.”

“Goodnight, Joe.”

Nick turns off the light.

 

There’s one thing that Joe didn’t really think to worry about, and it kind of smacks him in the face one day.

They’re in the tour bus lounge, waiting out the long ride between New York and Charleston, Guitar Hero the distraction of choice. Joe is halfway through a rather fantastic run of ‘Sunshine of Your Love’ in Expert when Garbo and Ryan emerge from the bunk area, talking and laughing.

“I can’t believe she asked you that,” Garbo says, shaking his head.

Ryan laughs. “I know, and I was just like…” he makes a shocked face, hands held out in front of him in confusion.

“So what did you say?” Garbo asks, grabbing two cans of soda from the fridge and passing one to Ryan.

“I just said it was way too kinky for me! I mean, I liked her but there was no way I was going to –“ their voices fade away as they move into a different part of the bus and Joe blinks, turning to the TV and realizing he’s missed about a minute’s worth of notes.

“Joe?” Nick nudges him and Joe snaps back into reality, mumbling something about zoning out. He starts the level again, but all Joe can think about is that one word : kinky.

Kinky kinky kinky. It’s a funny word, Joe thinks. What does it even mean? Anything that’s not ‘normal’? Do you have to be ‘kinky’ to like certain kinds of things? And if, like Ryan said, things can be too kinky, what happens then? 

When they were watching a movie before, Nick had his hand low on Joe’s back, thumb dipping under his jeans to touch his panties every now and then. It had felt nice; intimate. But now that Joe thinks about it, isn’t that kinky?

And what if, like Ryan did, Nick decides that it’s too much?

 

When Joe nestles into his bunk that night, he doesn’t sleep, head full of questions. Nick’s hands on him, on his underwear…was that just Nick trying to be close, or is it like, a thing for Nick? Isn’t that kind of a fetish, the panty thing? Aren’t there guys out there who like, collect women’s panties and jerk off into them? Not to mention the fact that Joe is a boy in women’s panties, which just makes it all the more crazy.Joe thinks that if anyone were to judge him for cross-dressing, the same judgement applies for people like Nick for wanting a cross-dresser.

Nick doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, which is what confuses Joe. They’ve kissed and touched when Joe’s in his girl clothes and his boy clothes and there’s no difference in how Nick treats him. Like it’s totally normal for Nick to make out with a boy in a skirt.

Is it?

And if it is now, what happens later? What happens if they get…further? What if it just gets too much for Nick to handle, and he leaves Joe behind?

 

The thoughts lead Joe into Nick’s bunk, pulling back the curtain and tugging up Nick’s blanket to slide inside. Nick makes an annoyed noise as he wakes and sits up to switch on the light, blinking at Joe.

“Joe, what? Time s’it?"

Joe shrugs. “Two?”

He nudges Nick until Nick slides over a little more and Joe can fit properly in the bunk, fitting them together face to face.

“Everything okay?” Nick asks. “Is Kev asleep?”

“Up front, on the phone with Dani.” Nick half-smiles and lies back down, blinking tiredly at Joe in the dim light of the bunk.

“Whipped,” he hums. “So why are you here?”

“Can’t sleep,” Joe admits. “Nick, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

Joe hesitates, wondering how to word his thoughts. “You…you want me, right?”

Nick raises his eyebrows and snakes his hand between them to the curve of Joe’s hip, squeezing. “I thought that was obvious by now.”

“But…” Joe shakes his head, flustered. Nick just raises his eyebrows further, questioning.

“Isn’t it weird?!” Joe blurts. “That you want a guy who wears dresses?” Joe pauses. “You do want me when I wear dresses, right?”

“Sure,” Nick says easily. “It’s been months, Joe, you know it doesn’t bother me.”

Joe sighs. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t you think there’s a difference between not being bothered and actually liking it?” He looks away, over Nick’s shoulder where the street lights are flashing past the tiny window. “A lot of people would think it was really weird for you to be with a guy who wears lingerie on a regular basis, Nick.”

Nick shrugs. “A lot of people would think you’re weird for wearing it in the first place.” He yawns, sinking deeper into his pillow. “Joe, can you just tell me what’s worrying you? I wanna sleep.”

Joe takes a deep breath. “I guess...I guess I wanna know if things get further with us, will it be too kinky for you?”

“Kinky?” Nick laughs a little and Joe scowls. “Yes, Nick. Kinky. I don’t know why you’re so cool with it but everyone else would think it is kinky for an apparently straight boy to want sex with another dude in a skirt and panties!”

“But I like you in skirts and panties,” Nick says blankly, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“But why?” Joe presses. “I mean, do you have some secret cross-dressing obsession that I never knew about or are you just putting up with it because it’s me or –“

“I don’t know,” Nick interrupts. “I’ve thought about it too, you know. It probably is kinky but when you’re in your clothes you’re-“

“I’m what?”

“You’re sexy, okay? God, Joe. You’re so confident and happy like that, you’re always smiling and the clothes look really good on you.” Nick shakes his head. “Maybe I am kinky.”

Joe’s so relieved he could cry. “So Nick Jonas has a thing for boys in skirts,” he says, unable to stop a smile spreading on his face. “The fans would be so surprised.”

“Not boys in skirts,” Nick corrects. “You in skirts.”

“Oh,” Joe’s smile widens even further and he scoots closer. “That works, too.”

He kisses Nick, tasting Nick’s sleep-warm mouth, touching at Nick’s messy hair. He knows he should make it just a short one and then let them both sleep, but when Nick squeezes his hip and deepens the kiss, Joe can’t resist. He lies on his back with Nick leaning over him in the tiny space, Nick’s hand still warm on Joe’s hip and his fingers slipping under Joe’s pyjama pants to fiddle with the waistband of Joe’s underwear. Joe really likes it when Nick’s hands are on him.

They trade kisses for a long time, long enough that Joe starts to feel warm and flushed, cock thickening in his pants and heart thumping. He can feel Nick’s answering hardness against his hip and when Nick whispers, “I wanna feel. Can we,” with his hand curled into the top of Joe’s pants, Joe doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” It’s not what he expected, but _oh_ , he wants that.

They both sit back to struggle out of their pants and when Joe lies back down, legs bare and cock obvious against his [pink underwear](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/V307671.jpg), Nick’s eyes go comically wide. “Joe,” he breathes, sitting back on his heels and staring at him.

Joe whines impatiently because hey, weren’t they making out a minute ago? Joe kind of liked that.

“Nick,” he says, making grabby-hands at his brother. “Kevin might be back soon, c’mon.”

“Give me a second,” Nick responds, and Joe just tries not to blush as Nick’s eyes travel over him. He’s glad he’s still wearing his shirt; he’s sure the flush must be visible all the way down his chest. Joe lets himself stare right back, eyes on the shape of Nick’s cock in his black briefs, his pale collarbone where his v-neck falls loosely away.

Nick reaches out, tugging Joe’s shirt up a little and looks curiously at the hairless strip of skin showing above Joe’s panties. He touches a fingertip there and Joe sucks in a breath, biting his lip.

“You shave here, too?” Nick asks, voice rough.

Joe nods. “Yeah, I – everywhere.”

 

It had been weird, the first time, not to mention slightly terrifying, to have the razor so close to such a sensitive part of his body, but Joe loves the smoothness of it, how it allows him to feel the soft fabrics of his panties.

Nick sucks in a breath and his eyes flutter closed as he draws two fingertips slowly down where the trail of hair should be. Joe’s skin buzzes and heats up as Nick traces across the waistline of the panties, all slow and curious, wide-eyed. Joe can’t take it and he has to pull Nick down and kiss him. He clutches at Nick’s v-neck and just _pulls_. Nick lands with a stifled ‘oof’, one hand bracing himself by Joe’s head and the other still resting lightly over the panties.

Joe just wants him closer, so he gets his hands on Nick’s broad shoulders, tugs and pushes until Nick finally does what he wants and settles on top of him. And oh god, it feels amazing to have Nick’s cock sliding against his through two very thin layers of underwear. Nick gasps and grinds down and they both groan at the feeling. It’s too much and it’s not enough so Joe opens his mouth over Nick’s in a frantic kiss as they rub against each other.

It’s hot and messy and then – then Nick pulls back for a second, hips still rocking into Joe’s and mutters, “I can feel – you’re wet.”

Just like that, Joe comes.

Nick seems as surprised as he is when Joe stills and cries out, coming hard and fast. He’s dazed and loose as Nick rubs off against Joe’s hip before he comes with a shudder and a flood of wet warmth against Joe’s skin.

“Well,” Joe says, head still fuzzy as Nick collapses heavily on him, both sweating in the hot, tight space. “At least you’re not the only kinky one.”

 

 

 

 

In years to come, Joe will remember the summer tour of 2009 in a series of snapshots:

Tulsa – the bus breaking down in the middle of a deserted highway just after lunch. They play wiffleball in a field nearby and Garbo tackles Joe into the grass when their team wins. Kevin’s goofy laugh and Nick’s adorably bitter losing face. Bright sunlight and picking grass seeds out of his clothes.

 

Washington – the soft glow of pride when he watches Nick speaking to a group of kids with diabetes. Big blue eyes of a little girl Joe talks to. She just got her first insulin pump. Afterwards, how drained and quiet Nick becomes. The rumbling of the bus underneath them when Joe pulls Nick’s head into his lap and strokes through his curls. Watching the strain disappear slowly from Nick’s face as Joe talks him through his worries.

 

Portland – Kevin and Dani’s glowing faces as they pore over bridal magazines and guest lists. Shopping with Danielle, Kevin and Nick. Kevin and Nick’s resigned faces every time Joe or Danielle hands them yet another shopping bag or ask them to sit outside yet another dressing room. Kevin rolling his eyes and asking Joe how he could possibly need a four hundredth pair of sunglasses. That evening, coming back to the tour bus to find a thin paper bag stuffed under his pillowcase. Nick’s proud smile when Joe unwraps the beautiful silk scarf he snuck off to buy. The feel of Nick’s broad shoulders under Joe’s hands when Joe kisses him in thanks.

 

San Diego – Bright lights, noise. Sun burning Joe’s cheeks as they soundcheck an outdoor venue. Stealing Nick’s aviators and dancing playfully out of reach when Nick frowns and tries to grab them back. Playing ‘Chopsticks’ on the keyboard over and over until Ryan slaps the back of his head and yells at him to take up the tambourine again instead. An endless sea of awestruck, happy faces of girls in the crowd. Kevin spinning happily, his guitar a whirl of colour. How strong Nick’s voice is on ‘Black Keys’. Singing his heart out and running around that stage until he thinks his legs might fall off. Collapsing with his head on Nick’s shoulder the minute they get into the car. Nick’s lips cool on Joe’s sweat drenched forehead.

 

Georgia – Nick’s harsh voice and glare when they lose a Road Dogs match. Badly. Frustration boiling under Joe’s skin at his brother’s single-mindedness. Kevin’s loud sigh when Nick tells him off about his swing. Deciding to hang out with John instead of dealing with Nick’s mood. Later, the stubborn, petulant expression Nick gets when he bitches about the loss. Triumph when Joe manages to joke around enough to get his brother to relax and remember it’s only a game. The way Nick forgets how to talk when Joe distracts him with the brand new garter belt he just bought.

 

It’s an amazing tour. An amazing summer, really. Joe will remember it as the first summer of really feeling like himself. Like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. He will remember it in the brush of silk over his thighs, the strap of a tank top on his shoulders. It's learning how to accept that he doesn't have to be sure if he’s a boy or a girl. It's changing his ideas about gender, deciding that it’s not about what he looks like on the outside, it’s about how he feels on the inside.

This summer isn’t about Joe deciding to label himself with one term or another, one gender. It’s about realising that maybe, the label has never actually mattered. Maybe he will never know if he’s a boy who likes to wear girl’s clothes or a girl trapped in a boy’s body or just a gay kid with a penchant for lingerie. Maybe Joe will never have a name for himself. Maybe he’ll never truly know who he is.

And maybe that’s okay.

 

Of course, it’s also a summer of Nick. Every memory of these months is bathed in the soft glow of Nick’s approval, Nick’s understanding, and most of all, Nick’s love. Things progress between them slowly, almost old-fashioned, really. Joe doesn’t mind, is in no rush to be pushing it any faster than it needs to go. After the second kiss comes the third, the fourth, the fifteenth. Hanging out together becomes dates, Nick always insisting on paying, no matter how much Joe protests. They become experts at finding time together, finding ways to touch and communicate secretly even when family or friends are around. Joe basically floats through the summer, and when August comes he just hopes nothing is going to change.

 

 

Michelle has them come to her studio to do fittings for the Teen Choice Awards, which are next week. They stand and listen patiently as she shows them some of her ideas for their outfits - they actually need two, one for the performance and one for the rest of the show. "You're doing World War Three, right?"

"Yeah."

"I was thinking classic rock and roll, you know? Lots of black, maybe a leather jacket for you, Nick. Some nice boots."

They nod. "Sounds good."

She hands them each a pile of clothing and shoves them into dressing rooms to change. Joe pulls on the clothes quickly, not really bothering to inspect them first. T-shirt, pants, boring colours, boring fabrics. He knows the drill, and is the first out of the change rooms to meet Michelle’s inspection.

"Oh, lovely," Michelle says, clasping her hands together in pleasure as she takes in Joe's outfit. "That's really working."

Joe looks down at himself - black jeans, a grey t-shirt with a black vest layered over the top. He smiles at Michelle, but he knows it's small, not his usual megawatt grin. "It's cool."

"Let's see it all together," Michelle suggests. "Come on, line up. Kevin, choose a jacket already."

Kevin grumbles, but they line up obediently and let her take in their outfits. Michelle grins. "I love it. And it's all very versatile, I'm sure you'll still be able to move around. Happy?"

"Happy," they mumble, and she leaves them alone for a minute as she goes to find her suggestions for the red (green) carpet.

Nick and Kevin both move away to sift through a bile of accessories, belts and scarves and the like, but Joe stays where he is, staring critically at his reflection. He’s used to how different he feels in tees and jeans compared to his skirts, and it usually doesn’t bother him that much; it’s just the way things are. Joe just can’t help looking over the other side of the room to where Michelle has some gorgeous formal dresses hanging for her other clients. He can feel Nick watching him, can feel the sympathy in Nick’s gaze, but Joe doesn’t look up, isn’t in the mood for platitudes right now.

"Joe?"

"Yeah?"

Joe wanders over and Nick holds up what looks like a tasseled leather belt. "Try this on."

Joe is skeptical but he takes the belt, threading it into his jeans. The ribboned material falls down on one side and brushes the back of his legs, swishing around his knees.

The feeling is familiar and Joe looks up at Nick, feels himself relax suddenly, shoulders loosening, and he smiles at Nick, secret and grateful. Nick shrugs, smiling slightly in return.

When Joe turns back to the mirror and spins in a slow circle, the soft leather follows him in a little swirl and his smile widens into a delighted grin. He turns faster, the tassels fanning out, fluttering.

"It looks like a [skirt.](http://s24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/?action=view&current=akasks.jpg)" Kevin comments, not scoffing, just observing.

"Yeah, it does." Joe agrees, still gazing at himself in the newly complete outfit.

When Kevin shrugs and wanders off to look at shoes again, Joe turns his back on his reflection, facing Nick. He reaches down and fiddles with the fringed belt, threading and twisting it through his fingers. "This is awesome."

"I know it's not what you wanted," Nick says. "But I thought -"

"It's great, Nick." Joe smiles again, reaches out to brush his fingers against Nick's in the briefest of touches. "Thank you."

 

 

It may not be the glamorous red carpet gown Joe would have liked to wear, but wearing the belt during their performance that night helps more than Joe could have imagined. It’s like an extra shot of confidence and Joe’s never felt better on stage. They _kill_ it, voices strong and energy high. Joe can feel his brothers feeding off his great mood and Nick is incredible on the other side of the stage, face damp with exertion and fingers moving expertly over the frets of his guitar.

In the dressing room afterwards, they’re all sweating and grinning as they change. Kevin hugs Joe and Nick both tightly, saying, “That was awesome!”

“Awesome,” Nick echoes. When he hugs Joe he presses his lips to Joe’s ear and whispers, “You’re amazing.”

He pulls away before Joe can respond, can say, _no, you’re amazing, and I couldn’t do it without you._

It’s such a huge night that Joe is ready to fall asleep by the time they’re being ushered out of the venue, but of course there are still fans crowding and pressing up against them as they approach the exits. Joe smiles as energetically as he knows how, waving and stopping to sign and pose for pictures. They get a little out of control, too many screaming girls pressed into one small space, and Joe feels a slight thread of panic as they weave through the mess of noise and heat. Rob leads the way, followed by Kevin, and Joe fists his hand in his big brother’s shirt. He turns to look for Nick and finds him already there, flattening his palm against the small of Joe’s back and guiding him forward. Nick looks slightly worried but nevertheless in control, his voice steady when he says, “Come on, we’re nearly there.”

The crowd finally thins out when they get past the restricted area to where the cars are parked, but Nick’s hand stays on Joe’s back, keeping him close. When they get to the SUVs, Nick opens the door first but stands back and lets Joe climb in in front of him. He does this often, now, and Joe should be used to it but it still makes him smile as he settles into the leather seat.

 

 

The first time Nick calls him ‘baby’, Joe is pretty sure he doesn’t even notice it. They’d woken up late to Kevin banging on their door and asking why they weren’t downstairs for a Billboard interview, and they’d scrambled out of bed. Joe is in the bathroom, frantically brushing his teeth and trying to shave at the same time, while Nick rifles through his suitcase in his boxers.

“Baby, did you steal that blue sweater again?”

Joe freezes, toothbrush still in his mouth and razor pressed to his jaw.

“Wasdlk?” he yells, garbled.

Nick appears in the doorway, looking flustered. “I said, do you have my blue sweater?”

Joe pulls his toothbrush out. “Uh, it’s hanging over the chair in the other room.”

“Oh, thanks.”

 

In the elevator downstairs, Joe nudges Nick’s shoulder and says, “You do realize you called me baby before.”

Nick’s eyes widen. “I did not.”

Joe nods and feels a dopey smile starting on his face. “Did too.”

“When?”

“Just before, when you were getting dressed! You called me baby.”

“Oh,” Nick fidgets, looks away, voice deliberately casual when he asks, “Would you rather I didn’t?”

Joe looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s pretty lame,” he starts, and waits for Nick’s embarrassed flush before continuing, “but I kind of like it.”

Nick nods, offering Joe a crooked smile. “Okay then.”

Joe waits for the elevator to go down five whole floors before he starts singing, “ _Baby, baby, baby, ohhh.”_

Nick scowls and shoves him. When Joe starts giggling, Nick kisses him and Joe shuts up pretty quick.

 

 

 

Joe is having a no good, very bad day.

They’d gotten in late last night and woken up too early for interviews this morning, then got whisked into rehearsals with barely a minute for lunch in between. Something went wrong with the sound in the first run through and they spent nearly an hour sitting around doing nothing. It’s third run through now and absolutely nothing seems to be going right. Garbo breaks a guitar string, Joe keeps messing up his notes, and even Nick misses a chord in the middle of ‘Paranoid’ that makes him frown. Kevin and Nick end up sniping at each other and Joe finds himself joining in, exhaustion biting at him and just wishing he could go back to the hotel and get some rest already.

He sighs and swings his mic listlessly as Dad insists on yet another repeat of ‘Turn Right.’

Joe messes up his high note, of course, and afterwards Nick is rolling his eyes and saying, “Joe, can you please pay attention here?”

“I am, Nick, jeez. I’m tired and we’ve done this five million times.”

“And we’ll keep doing it until we get it right, it’s really not that hard to get one note.”

“Fine,” Joe bites out. “Let’s go again.”

It continues like that all afternoon, all three brothers bitching at each other while their father sighs and frowns and tries to get them to be as professional as they usually are.

By the time they get back to the hotel for the blessed two hour break between rehearsals and the concert, Joe is ready to throw something, and he can’t pretend he’s not relieved when Nick decides not to come to the room with him.

An hour later, Joe is in the bathroom when he hears the door open and Nick’s voice calling his name.

“I hope you’re in a better mood,” Joe says through the bathroom door.

“I hope you are,” Nick responds childishly. “You’re the one who was ready to storm off just because I told you to try the minor-major progression one more time.”

“Well, if we actually needed to try it again, since it was fine the first five times I did it –“

“You screwed it up every time!”

“Did not! Not everything has to be perfect every single time, Nicholas, it’s not the end of the world if I miss one tiny note –“

“Well I want it to be perfect every time, Joseph, and if you actually rehearsed with us instead of whining all day –“

Joe rolls his eyes and slams his way out of the bathroom. “I was not whining, if you hadn’t been such an asshole about it – _why are you laughing at me?!”_

Nick had taken one look at Joe and collapsed in giggles against the couch. Seething, he stands there in confusion before Nick points at him and gasps, “Look at yourself!”

Joe looks down. He’d been in the middle of getting ready for the show. He’s wearing a tiny pair of purple short shorts, an old t-shirt with a hole in the shoulder, and he has a towel wrapped in a turban around his wet hair. One of his legs is covered in shaving cream, the other bare and damp, and to top things off, he’s brandishing a foamy razor at Nick like an angry housewife.

He looks completely ridiculous, and Joe starts laughing too, dropping the razor to clutch his stomach as he doubles over.

Joe’s eyes are streaming by the time their laughter dies off, and Nick is grinning at him for the first time all day.

“Sorry,” Nick says. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your grooming.”

“Beauty takes time, Nicholas.” Joe says loftily, beginning to unravel the towel from his hair. “What, you think I’m this pretty without a little bit of effort?”

“Guess I should leave you to it, then,” Nick quips. “Looks like you’ve got lots of work left to do.”

Joe throws the towel at him.

 

 

 

When they get back to the hotel room after Joe's birthday rollerskating party, Joe's giggly and hyperactive, practically bouncing off the walls. "Best day ever." He says to Nick, undressing from his party clothes and tugging a[ lavender babydoll](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/V288055_H40.jpg) from his special case. He slips it over his head in one easy movement and practically prances over to Nick, grinning from ear to ear. He pulls Nick into a hug. "Seriously. Best ever."

Nick laughs, returning the hug. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, baby. You tired?"

"Nope," Joe laughs, now beginning to dance with himself, his skirt fluttering over his thighs. "I could stay up all night. Let's watch a movie or order room service or go up to the roof or something."

"If we go out again I can't give you your present."

Joe pauses, looking over at him. "I thought the party was my present."

Nick waves a dismissive hand. "Pft, anyone can plan a rollerskating party. I wanted to get you something special."

"What is it?" Joe asks. "Oh, let me guess. It's...a private jet."

"We've already got one of those."

"An island?"

"Nope."

"A car."

"I already got you a motorcycle two years ago, and you hardly ever ride it."

"I would if Dad let me get my license." Joe pouts. He sits down on the bed. "No, seriously, Nick, what is it?"

"Close your eyes."

Joe obeys, sitting quietly and hearing Nick rummage through his bag.

"Hands out."

Joe holds out his hands, palms facing upwards, and Nick places a small, square object in them. Joe opens his eyes. His mouth parts on a soft gasp as he recognises the signature turquoise of a Tiffany's box. "Nick..."

"Open it." Nick urges, looking a little nervous.

Joe prises the box open slowly, revealing a [necklace](http://www.tiffany.com/Shopping/item.aspx?sku=22131168&cid=130346&search_params=s+5-p+1-c+130346-r+-x+-n+6-ri+-ni+1-t&mcat=0) nestled safely against dark blue velvet. It's simple but beautiful, a pendant of two hearts, diamond on platinum, supported by a thin white gold chain.

"Wow," Joe breathes, eyes wide, heart pounding. "Nick, this is beautiful." He reaches out to touch the pendants, running his fingers over the diamonds. "It must have cost a fortune."

"I got the longest chain they had," Nick says, babbling. "So you could hide it under your shirt. It can be exchanged, if you want -"

"No! It's perfect," Joe interrupts, tearing his eyes from the necklace and turning to Nick. "Put it on me?"

He lifts the necklace carefully out of the box and hands it to Nick, sweeping his hair off his neck so Nick can see the tiny clasp. Nick pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrating as he does it up. When it's done, he skims his hand over Joe's neck, coming to rest on his shoulder, thumb rubbing against the strap of Joe's babydoll.

The hearts sit low on Joe's chest, far down enough that they'll always be safe under his shirts. Joe fingers at the delicate silver chain, smiling up at Nick. The necklace is easily one of the most beautiful things Joe’s ever owned and he knows instantly that he’ll never want to take it off. "I love it." He fits his hand to the back of Nick's neck, tugging him into a long kiss. "I love _you_."

"I love you too. Happy birthday, Joe."

 

 

They don’t plan it like that, but it feels right to Joe that he loses his virginity the night of his twentieth birthday.

He’d thought about it a lot, their first time, had wondered when it would come and what it would be like. Wanted it to be perfect and beautiful and romantic, candles and music and rose petals.

It doesn’t happen like that. It’s not expected, not mapped out. It’s not Joe coming back to the hotel to find Nick spread on the bed naked and waiting to give Joe the perfect evening. It just…happens, and it turns out better than Joe ever imagined.

A few hours after receiving the necklace, Joe pulls Nick onto the bed and settles into the now familiar tradition of a very prolonged goodnight kiss. In past weeks, they’ve gotten further and further in tentative, shy steps, so it’s not a surprise when Nick slips Joe’s babydoll straps off his shoulders to kiss down Joe’s chest. It’s not a surprise when his hands slide up under the skirt to toy with the waistband of Joe’s panties.

What’s new is that neither of them reigns it in. No-one is pulling reluctantly away, crawling into the cold, empty second bed. The only thing Nick pulls back to do is slide his jeans and shirt off before easing back into the kiss, already hard in his boxers. Joe just wants to touch Nick everywhere; his shoulders, his back, his pink nipples and his soft belly. He runs his hands over every part of Nick’s body he can reach as they kiss, playing with the soft line of hair above his boxers, reaching around to press his fingers to the dimples in Nick’s back. He’s hard as he’s ever been and the thought of jerking off in the bathroom again seems unbearable. He sits up and helps Nick pull the babydoll over his head, hair fanning out on the pillow as he lays back down, and Nick’s lips meet his again.

After that, everything gets kind of fuzzy, but some parts of it will always be seared into Joe’s memory.

There’s the way Nick lays gentle, wet kisses down Joe’s chest and stomach and, for the first time, licks and nibbles along the line of Joe’s panties, starting at his left hip and working his way across, teasing as Joe’s skin twitches sensitively under the onslaught.

There’s the cheeky half smile Nick sends him as he bypasses the bulge in Joe’s panties and instead scoots down the bed, closing his hands around Joe’s knees and encouraging Joe’s legs to fall open. There’s the sharp, gasping breath Joe takes when Nick’s mouth skims up the inside of his thighs and then, finally, moves up to breathe hot and damp against Joe’s cock through the satin.

Joe will remember taking his underwear off himself, how he has to gulp and clear his dry throat before assuring Nick, in a hoarse whisper, that he’s ready for this. Then there’s the unfamiliar press of wet fingers against his hole and the slow, careful way Nick works him open while Joe tries to absorb the alien feeling of having something inside him. There’s that hot, desperate shock of electricity that shoots through him when Nick finds _that_ spot and Joe decides that he really, really likes this.

Liking it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when Nick leans over him and presses the head of his cock against Joe’s slippery entrance. It’s a blunt, overwhelming pressure and a totally different kind of pain than anything Joe’s ever felt – this aching, throbbing stretch, and Joe winces and squeezes his eyes shut. Nick stops a few inches in and drops down to rest his forehead against Joe’s, to pant hotly in his face. He’s sweating, curls falling into his eyes and lip caught between his teeth, and Joe loves him more than he ever has. He focuses on drawing long, deep breaths and relaxing his body while Nick fits himself inside and the pain fades back to the edges of his consciousness.

Joe knows his eyes are wide with awe when Nick is finally settled all the way in. He knows he’s stripped, utterly bare and giving himself to Nick completely when Nick starts to fuck him in rocking, deep thrusts that send sparks of heat up Joe’s spine. They’re quiet, mouths open on soft little breaths, and the only other sound in the room is the clink of metal on metal when Nick’s dogtags fall against the hearts of Joe’s necklace.

Nick’s so gentle with him. That’s probably the part Joe will remember most – how Nick stares into Joe’s eyes the whole time, how he keeps touching Joe all over, like he’s making sure this is really happening; stroking Joe’s neck, his chest, down his side to fit his palm against Joe’s hip and pull Joe up for a new angle that makes Joe whimper.

It doesn’t last, but then again Joe couldn't really have expected it to. Nick speeds up suddenly, thrusts going sharp and uneven, before pulling out and coming on Joe’s stomach with a thick cry, a warm wet splash on Joe’s skin. Nick is gorgeous in climax, his whole face going slack with pleasure, red mouth open and lashes fanning across pale cheeks. After, he hunches over Joe and slides his fingers curiously through the come on Joe’s belly, then uses it to jerk Joe’s cock in clumsy, wet pulls. He kisses Joe’s cheeks, his jaw, his throat, and Joe sinks his teeth deep into his own lip as he comes apart in Nick’s hands.

 

 

Joe’s goofy with happiness the next day, in a total daze. He keeps thinking back to the night before; he can still feel the ache of Nick inside him every time he moves and it makes him blush repeatedly. Mom thinks he has a fever and Kevin asks why he keeps smiling for no reason. Nick, for his part, is the smuggest Joe’s ever seen him, thrilled with the fact that he’s found yet another thing he’s amazing at. Frankie asks Nick why he looks so tired; Nick just sends Joe a proud little smirk and nudges his shoulder. Joe ducks his head to hide his grin and allows himself to reach up and touch at the shape of Nick’s gift under his shirt, the pendants warm against Joe’s skin.

 

 

 

[Part Six](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155584.html#cutid1)


	6. The Lady Is Mine - Part Six

 

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1)     [Part One](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154248.html)     [Part Two](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)      [Part Three](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154874.html#cutid1)     [Part Four](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154943.html#cutid1)    [Part Five](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155326.html#cutid1)   

 

One night in the first week of filming Camp Rock, they get back to the hotel early for once, and Joe flips channels on the TV while Nick showers. Demi and the girls were talking about going to the movies tonight but Joe's kind of in the mood for just hanging out and resting. It was a long day on the lake and although Joe's in fresh clothes, he still feels kind of smelly and dirty. When Nick finishes, he's so anxious to get into the shower that he forgets to take any spare clothes in with him. After his shower, he steps into the fog-filled bathroom and calls out, "Nick? Could you grab me something to wear?"

"What do you want?"

Joe shrugs to himself as he rubs the towel through his hair. "I dunno. Just regular stuff, I guess. Sleep clothes."

"Boy stuff or girl stuff?"

Joe grins to himself. Two months ago that wouldn't have even been an option, but Nick's voice is totally casual.

"Girl's," he yells. "But nothing too fancy."

When Nick lets himself inside the bathroom a minute later, he's carrying a small bundle of clothes and Joe smiles gratefully at him. "Thanks, Nick."

Joe dries off quickly, once again noting the thick spiky hair that's springing up on his legs, stomach, and chest. It's dark against his skin and he hates the coarse texture of it, how grotty and unkempt it makes him feel to see it there. There's nothing to be done about it; there's a couple of scenes of Shane and Mitchie around the lake, and Joe can't risk anyone noticing the suspicious hairlessness of Shane Gray's legs. He'll just have to deal with it until filming wraps.

Joe looks through the clothes Nick picked out for him. He'd listened to Joe and stayed simple: white briefs with smiley faces on them, and a baby soft cotton sleepshirt with three-quarter sleeves and a v-neck collar. Joe puts them both on and turns back to the mirror to finish with his hair.

His chest hair is peeking out from under the v-neck. Dark and obvious and just so, so out of place that Joe's face falls as soon as he sees it. He rubs his hand over his chest, feeling the hair brush against his palm as he eyes himself in the mirror. It's embarrassing to see himself like this. When he looks down, it's worse; his legs look skinny and pale, hair all bushy on his thighs where the nightie ends.

It's wrong. It's all wrong, to be dressed in his soft pretty nightshirt and have this gross stuff all over him. He wants it gone, more than anything, and he finds himself reaching for the razor before he has a chance to think. Then he sighs and puts it down. It's not that simple.

Joe leaves the bathroom and goes to his suitcase, retrieving a shirt and a pair of pale blue sweatpants instead. Nick is watching him from the couch, frowning. "Oh, sorry," he says. "Did I get the wrong ones?"

"No," Joe says. "Just felt like pants tonight." He pulls the nightie off and changes into the other clothes, breathing a sigh of relief when his hairy legs are covered.

 

 

Later, they kiss for a little while in bed, but when Nick's hands stray down to pull Joe's pants off, Joe freezes involuntarily. It's not that he doesn't want Nick to do it; he pretty much always wants Nick's hands on him. He just can't help but feel self-conscious.

"What's wrong?" Nick asks, hand stilled on Joe's hip. Joe shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, and he doesn't know why he bothers because Nick will know he's lying.

True to form, Nick frowns and presses, "You don't want to?"

"Of course. Just, uhm. Can I leave my pants on?"

Nick smirks. "What I want to do generally requires them to come off. The shirt, too, I hope."

"Oh," Joe feels stupid and petty for doing this but he just can't help the feeling of ugliness when he's unshaven. "I just don't want...I mean, I'd rather if we didn't -"

"Joe," Nick butts in. "What's going on?"

Joe sighs. "I haven't shaved."

Nick's expression doesn't change. He shrugs. "And?"

"And I feel gross! I'm all hairy and spiky and..." he shrugs. "It's yucky."

Nick raises his eyebrows. "Yucky. Are you twelve?"

Joe flops dramatically back onto the pillows, throwing his arm over his eyes. "You don't get it."

"Oh, I get it." Nick replies. "You had to stop shaving for the movie and now you think you're too manly and you feel weird in your girl clothes."

Surprised, Joe peeks out from under his arm. Nick is looking at him with this fond half smile, almost infuriatingly patient.

He nods.

"And you think I won't want to touch you because you're 'yucky' now."

Joe takes his arm off his eyes and grabs for Nick's hand where it's still resting on his hip, not meeting his eyes. "You think I'm being silly."

"A little," Nick admits. "I don't think it's silly that you're sad about feeling weird in your clothes. That's when you get to change into someone else, and the hair ruins it. Which sucks."

Joe squeezes Nick's fingers. "I couldn't wear the shirt you left for me. It just looked ridiculous."

"You might have to get used to it," Nick says gently. "We've got weeks of filming yet and unless something very new gets added to the script, I don't think there's a reason for Shane to have silky-smooth legs."

Joe sighs. "I know. Still sucks."

"But," Nick continues, untangling their hands and reaching for Joe's waistband again. "You're really silly for thinking that something like this would make me not want to touch you."

Joe smiles automatically, but the words don't stop him from inching away from Nick's touch. "Nick, don't."

Nick ignores him, running his hand down Joe's leg to grip his ankle, then sliding up under the sweatpants. His hands are cold and Joe gasps and tries to pull away again.

"Oh, no," Nick says. "Look, I'm touching you! And you have hair on your legs like every other human being! What a turn off."

Joe squirms. "It is!" he insists. "It's disgusting."

Nick nods earnestly, fingers creeping higher, now wrapping around Joe's knee. "Totally disgusting," he says. "I'll have to sleep alone tonight. Anything to get away from this."

Joe is still smiling helplessly, and only half-heartedly fights it when Nick scoots down the bed and tugs the sweats down and off him. He even takes his shirt off himself, forgetting about the chest hair for a moment as he lays back down. He can feel himself blushing a little, knowing Nick's hands are brushing the spiky hair.

Nick is staring at him, kneeling between Joe's legs, one hand resting on each of Joe's thighs. The sparse hair there is easier for Joe to handle but he still doesn't like how it looks against Nick's pale hands. "See?" Nick says, voice thick. He runs his eyes over Joe, head to toe, and the heat in his gaze makes Joe shiver. "This is," Nick continues. "The ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"Yeah?" Joe asks as Nick leans over him, hovering. "Told you."

"You were right," Nick breathes, grinning mischievously. "I don't want you at all."

He kisses Joe, settling down on top of him so their hips slot together. Joe nearly forgets it all for a few minutes, just sinking into the kiss, but he makes himself pull away. "Seriously, though," he gasps. "You don't care that I can't wear my pretty stuff for awhile? It'll feel weird and I just - I can't really do it when I'm like this."

Nick rests the palm of his hand against Joe's neck, warm and comforting. "I care that you care," he says quietly. "I care that you might be missing something you need for a while. Are you gonna be okay, without it?"

Joe shrugs. He's been dressing up, slipping into dreamland for a few hours a night, for months now. He doesn't really know how he's going to handle being plain boyish Joe for such a long time. "I hope so. We'll see, I guess."

Nick nods. His thumbs brushes absently against Joe's neck. "As for the rest," Nick says. "You really think I only want this when you're dressed up?"

"That's not what I - I mean, it's just that whenever we're like this, I'm wearing something nice," Joe stumbles, not finding the right words. "I know you like it, so..."

Nick rolls his eyes and presses a short, hard kiss to Joe's mouth. "Don't you get it, you doofus? I don't care whether you're being boy-you or girl-you. It's _you_."

"Oh," Joe says, touched. He takes a moment to absorb Nick's words, trying hard not to smile too stupidly at his brother.

"So you don't think the lingerie is sexy? Because I could totally throw out those white crotchless panties I just got, they seemed a little-"

Nick cuts him off with another kiss. "You throw those out and I'll kill you. What else are you going to wear for me the day filming ends?"

 

 

 

Filming Camp Rock 2 should be, by all accounts, a really great time. There’s hardly any paparazzi around to bother them, they’re staying in a nice hotel, and they get along well with the whole cast. It should feel like a vacation, a chance to just hang out with friends for a month before tour starts and their lives get crazy again.

For Joe, it’s not quite that simple.

For one thing, he didn’t realise just how much time he’d be spending away from Nick. Their characters interact quite a lot, sure, especially in group scenes, but Joe is spending far more time with Demi and Nick has dozens of scenes with his love interest Chloe. Joe loves Demi, she’s his best friend besides Nick, and Chloe seems like an awesome girl, but it does feel weird to suddenly not spend all his time with Nick.

The other problem is, of course, Joe’s clothes and hair. Every day, the body hair seems thicker and coarser and longer. Every day, Joe’s mood dips when he sees it and he scowls and sighs, not bothering to dress in anything feminine, even at night. What’s the point? A skirt can’t be sexy or pretty when he’s got gross hairy legs poking out of it. Joe can see Nick watch him with concern when Joe just sulks around in sweatpants instead of dressing up, but Joe doesn’t want to talk about it. He can’t straighten his hair during the day either, because ‘Shane’ wears it curly, and with all the cameras around there’s no way he’s getting away with wearing panties under his clothes.

On tour, unavoidable circumstances like buses and long hours meant he’d go days, even a week at a time without being able to dress up at night. But even then, he’d be able to do his hair nicely or wear his underwear secretly or have Nick take him out somewhere nice, have something to make Joe feel girly and pretty. Now…now it’s two weeks into filming and Joe feels like he’s drowning. He can’t talk to Nick about it because there’s nothing Nick can do for him – they both know Joe can’t shave until filming’s over and Joe can’t wear his clothes until he’s shaved. It’s a problem with no answer and Joe hates it, hates how much he’s come to depend on what he wears to make him happy. It reminds him of being fourteen; terrified and confused and totally addicted to something he didn’t understand.

Some days are fine. Joe will wake up excited for the day and enjoy himself on set – he loves the thrill of acting and learning, watching the way the cameras work, fooling around with Demi and the rest of them between scenes. It’s those kind of days when Joe forgets his issues and lets himself just have fun, away from the glaring spotlight of L.A or the frenetic schedule of constant touring.

Nights, though. Nights are easily the hardest.

 

Joe used to look forward to sundown with a kind of thrill, knowing that he was mere hours away from closing the hotel room door behind him and being able to unlock his special trunk of clothes. Each night was a treat; leafing through underwear, stockings, tights, tops, dresses, skirts – even jewellery and perfume, if he wanted to go all out. Each night Joe would go through the exciting process of carefully picking out his outfits, spend a few hours in his little fantasy land, and slip into bed with Nick in a camisole or silk pyjamas. Even if he was too tired to dress up and play around, just bumming around in a lacy tank and pink sweats with _Juicy Girl_ bedazzled across the butt felt more right than the shapeless t-shirts and boxers he now throws on for bed. (No matter how much Nick laughed at him for the rhinestones).

During filming, now that Joe’s this masculine, messy, boyish…creature, it feels pointless to do any of that. Either he’ll be too tired and come back from set absolutely wrecked, throwing himself into bed in his boy clothes without even showering, or he’ll dig longingly through his trunk before deciding nothing’s going to look good anyway. He’s worrying Nick, he knows he is, but this is something Joe doesn't know how to pull himself out of.

Nick tries, tries so hard to be patient with him but the truth is that he understands this even less than Joe does, and he can only help as much as Joe lets him. When Joe’s feeling so down about himself, he’s reluctant to let Nick close, especially the kind of close they’ve been in the weeks following Joe’s birthday night.

 

 

It’s been a typical long day on set – Joe shooting and reshooting several versions of an argument between Shane and Mitchie, and Nick miles away on a soundstage with Chloe. Joe feels drained and grumpy when he finally gets back to the hotel, and finding it empty for the fourth afternoon this week makes it even worse. He hasn’t even seen Nick all day; Nick was gone when Joe woke up and a couple of brief texts during lunch doesn’t feel like enough.

Joe gets out his phone and dials Nick.

Nick answers mid-laugh. “No, I told you – oh, hey, Joe.”

“Hi,” Joe says, smiling despite himself at the sound of Nick’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Oh, Chloe and I stopped for dinner after filming, we’re at this awesome sushi place downtown.”

Joe frowns. Nick went out to eat without him?

“Oh,”

“I thought you were staying late for the duet tonight.”

“No,” Joe replies as he flips on the TV and turn the volume down. “That’s tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry. I’d invite you to come but we’re practically done and then Chloe wants to stop at the mall for something, so…”

“It’s fine,” Joe says, swallowing down a little pang of rejection. “I’m super tired, anyway.”

“Do you want me to come back? I’m sure Chloe can go to the mall by herself.”

“No, no,” Joe says. “I’ll eat with Kev, don’t worry about me. Have fun with Chloe, okay?”

There’s a giggle in the background and Chloe’s voice, saying, “Nick J, you're being boring, come talk to us!”

“Listen, Joe, I’ve gotta go, okay? I’ll you see in a couple of hours.”

“Love you,” Joe manages.

“Love you too, b-!”

Judging by the giggling in the background, Nick’s had his phone snatched away and Joe listens despondently to the dial-tone for a minute and then hangs up.

 

 

Joe watches TV blankly for awhile, orders room service and eats alone, thinking about Nick, off somewhere having the time of his life with Chloe. Pretty, bright, funny Chloe with her wide smile and sparkling eyes. Joe’s never thought of himself as the jealous type but the thought of Nick spending time with her instead of Joe sparks a little glow of anger in Joe’s gut.

Maybe getting dressed up would make him feel better. Joe rises from the couch and goes to lever open his trunk. He kneels in front of it and breathes in the soft, flowery scent of perfume that clings to the clothes, then begins to rifle through the piles of satin and lace, just enjoying the material. Joe lifts out one of his very favourite dresses, a summery blue number with wide shoulder straps and a green sash across the waist. He thinks briefly about putting it on but he can already imagine how it would look with his legs and chest all gross and the depression at the sight wouldn’t be worth it. He just sighs and puts it away, locking the trunk carefully.

By the time Nick is letting himself inside (after ten, how did they stay so late at the _mall_ , Joe thinks grumpily), Joe’s worked himself into a nice little sulk, flipping channels and thinking about all the ways Chloe could steal Nick away from him.

“Hey,” Nick says, dumping his bag and unbuttoning his jacket. “Sorry I took so long, we dropped Chloe back at her hotel and the traffic was ridiculous because of some big accident and…well, it sucked.”

He sits on the arm of the couch, leaning down to kiss Joe’s forehead. “How was your night?”

Joe shrugs. “Boring.”

“Hmm. Oh man, I’m so tired.”

Nick toes off his shoes and comes around the couch to sit beside Joe, falling back against the cushion with a pleased sigh. He smiles tiredly at Joe and makes motions for Joe to come closer. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

Joe lets himself be squeezed in under Nick’s arm. “I know. Hey, how was filming?”

Nick laughs suddenly. “Oh, we had to re-shoot like twenty times, Chloe kept cracking up on this one line, it was hilarious. Then we couldn’t get the sound right on the song and…”

Joe maybe zones out a little as Nick tells him about his day, but his attention is caught when Nick says, “Hey, I nearly forgot! I got something for you when Chloe and I were at the mall. I had to tell her Kevin asked me to pick it up for Danielle, but I don’t think she even saw what it was.”

“Really?”

Nick stands and retrieves his bag, pulling out a plastic wrapped bundle and presenting it to Joe with an air of excitement.

Joe unwraps the plastic slowly as Nick leans over him, talking softly. “I know you haven’t really wanted to lately, but I thought…if you had something new…”

It’s a nightie, in a deep cobalt blue with silver ribbons interlacing up the sides and the same ribbon forming a cute little bow over the bust. Joe unfolds it and spreads it over his knees to examine the lace trimmings along the hem, the intricacy of the ribbons. If it had been a few weeks ago Joe would have been jumping at the chance to wear it, but it’s the same as the blue dress – there’s just no point, and Joe feels no thrill of happiness as he touches at the cotton. Still, he tries to muster a smile for Nick.

“It’s lovely. Thank you,” he says quietly, and lays a kiss on Nick’s cheek. He puts the nightie down on the table.

“Joe? Don’t you want to try it on?” Nick asks, sounding concerned.

Joe changes the channel. “Maybe later.”

Nick huffs impatiently and grabs the remote, turning the TV off. “What’s wrong?”

Joe shrugs. “Just not in the mood right now, that’s all.”

Nick sighs and hooks his fingers under Joe’s chin, forcing Joe to look him in the eyes. “Please try it,” he begs. “For me?”

He’s just trying to help, Joe knows he is, doing anything he can to make Joe feel better, and Joe doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s not going to work. So he nods and stands up. “Okay, for you.”

When Joe’s dressed, he doesn’t feel much better. Sure, the nightie is nice, but Joe can feel Nick looking at him and all he can think about is how Nick can see his hairy legs and chest, how his hair is this messy, ugly mop of curls instead of the soft waves that should be flowing over his shoulders. Joe eyes himself in the full length mirror and his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach like a rock. “Oh my god, I look ridiculous.”

In the past, Joe’s formed this talent for only seeing the feminine parts of himself when he looks in the mirror. He’s learned to notice the thick, womanly curves of his thighs and the way his butt looks in jeans, how pretty his eyes can look. He’s learned to blur out the sharp masculine line of his jaw, his Adam’s apple, his hard shoulders and big hands. Looking in the mirror tonight, it all suddenly seems highlighted, and for the first time, there’s an unerring sense that wearing this feels wrong.

Joe feels like a man in a dress, and he feels _ugly_.

There’s a voice screaming inside him that says, _get it off, get it OFF_ , so Joe does, practically ripping the stupid thing over his head and throwing it to the ground. Joe stands there for a moment in just his underwear – his stupid, awful, boring plain black _boy’s_ underwear – before crumpling to the ground and covering his face with his hands. He feels sick and sad and stupid, wondering how he could possibly have gotten to the point that not being able to wear a dress is almost enough to reduce him to tears.

Nick drops down beside him and pulls Joe into a hug, muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” into Joe’s hair. Joe wants to tell him it’s not his fault, it’s all Joe for being so weird and over-emotional and invested in this. He can’t bring himself to explain, so Joe clings to Nick and hopes he understands.

 

 

 

Things get worse before they get better. When they’re not on set, Joe just wants to hide, pull on the biggest hoodie he owns and go to bed where no one can see him. On the rare occasions that he lets Nick touch him, he asks Nick to turn the lights out so Joe doesn’t have to look at his hairy body moving under Nick’s hands.

In the back of his head, Joe is fully aware that real girls have body hair too; they’re not magically smooth everywhere, all the time. It’s just…it’s always been a big part of the fantasy, for him, and having hair all over him while wearing dresses doesn’t work no matter how much he wants it to, and his brain just can’t get around the idea of being sexy when he feels like such a slob. He wants Nick but he can’t understand how Nick could want him, and every time they start something Joe finds himself pulling away, convinced Nick is just taking pity on him.

Nick is starting to get frustrated with him, his commiserating looks turning into disappointed sighs. Joe is itching with the need for filming to finish so this can finally be over and he can go back to his normal life. Where he wears what he wants and does his hair nicely and has Nick all to himself instead of sharing him with stupid Chloe and stupid Courtney and all the other stupid, perfect, beautiful girls Nick seems to be surrounded by every time Joe sees him on set.

Off-set, too; it seems whenever Joe is free these days Nick is busy, and vice-versa. Every time Joe turns around he finds that Nick is either off filming or off hanging with the girls. Joe can’t tell if Nick is avoiding Joe on purpose because Joe’s mood is so off, or if he’s genuinely that busy. Whatever it is, it feels like rejection, and only serves to make everything worse.

 

It all hits a crescendo, a month into filming.

They’re filming the bonfire scenes near the lake, all of which needs to be done late at night to get the lighting right, so everyone’s staying in these tiny little two-person trailers for a couple of days. Joe finds himself in a rare good mood on the first day, looking forward to what’s sure to be an exciting atmosphere as they film that night. Taking advantage of it, Joe locks the trailer door and stretches out with Nick on one of the narrow bunks, kissing him wetly and tangling their legs together.

Joe is happy and thoughtless for awhile, letting himself enjoy the kiss, but when Nick’s hand palms over Joe’s stomach Joe jerks back. “Nick,” he whispers in warning.

Nick huffs but pulls his hand away, returning it to Joe’s shoulder. A minute later, it’s sliding up under Joe’s shirt again and Joe stops, grabbing for Nick’s wrist and pulling away. “Don’t,” he says, almost reluctantly.

“Right,” Nick says, frustration and anger coming into his voice. “Sorry, I forgot I’m not allowed to touch you now.”

“It’s not – you can touch me, just not…”

“Just not anywhere that has hair on it, because God forbid I feel it, right?”

“Nick, please,” Joe begs, sitting up. “I just…I can’t.”

Nick slumps back against the pillow, hand over his face. “It’s hair! It’s just hair and I don’t understand why you won’t let me…Joe, I’ve tried so hard to be patient about this but I can’t –“

There’s a bang on their trailer door. “Five minutes ‘til make up, boys.”

Joe makes a face. “Great.”

Nick climbs out of the bunk without touching him. “We’ll talk about this later.”

 

 

Things start off fine with the filming. They’re shooting a couple of different scenes, taking advantage of having the fire lit and everything set up. It’s cold but not unbearable, and in between shots everyone sits around the fire with hot chocolate and blankets around their shoulders, chatting and laughing like it’s a party. Joe tries to forget about the argument and have a good time, which goes fine until the hours begin to drag at the fifteenth take of the group shot. The director, Paul, sighs. “Take ten, guys.”

It’s nearly two am and the cold is really settling in now. Joe shivers as he sips at his hot chocolate and settles on one of the logs. His eyes narrow in annoyance when he notices Nick and Chloe sitting together on the other side of the fire.

They’re chatting, Nick animated and laughing in a way he hasn’t been with Joe in weeks. Chloe keeps tossing her hair over her shoulder and sidling closer to Nick. She’s smiling as she says something and pokes Nick in the knee, her words making Nick’s face light up in a crooked grin. Joe grits his teeth and squeezes his hands tightly around his mug.

Nick is telling a story, one of his long rambling ones that go forever and usually end up being about nothing, but Chloe is totally focused on him, eyes shining in the firelight as she gazes at him. She wants him, Joe can tell, she wants to kiss Nick right there in front the fire, and the thought prompts a visceral, angry, _NO_ inside Joe’s head.

He thinks back to the party that was held the first night they filmed, a bonfire like this, with the whole cast. Things between him and Nick had been completely different then, even though it was a mere few weeks ago. Nick had been by Joe’s side all night, making sure he was warm, sharing a log with him and sneaking an arm around Joe’s shoulders when nobody was looking. Tonight, he’s barely looked at Joe, and that just makes Joe’s anger rise further.

Nick drops something and Chloe picks it up for him, leaning over Nick’s lap, and when she rises and hands it to Nick, she lets her hand linger over Nick’s far longer than needed. 

Nick has the gall to look confused when Joe stalks over to their side of the fire, glaring. “Joe?”

“Alright,” calls Paul. “Last take, everyone, then we can all go have warm showers and go to bed.”

The cast cheers tiredly and move to take their places. Joe jabs Nick in the chest. “Later.” He promises, and throws a quick sneer at Chloe’s retreating back.

 

 

The second they’re dismissed, Joe gets in the first car that’s headed back to the trailers and climbs in without a second glance, not waiting to see if Nick is looking for him.

Back at the trailer, he paces angrily, still seeing Chloe’s adoring face, still feeling Nick’s insistent hands on his stomach earlier and hearing the bitter tone in Nick’s voice when he talked about not being able to touch Joe. 

It’s all building, building, building inside him; the stress of the last few weeks, the aching sadness and desperation from being cut off from his clothes, the horrific insecurity that he feels when he’s dressed in Shane Gray’s stupid plaid shirts and ugly shoes. Joe feels like he could explode from it all, and when Nick slams his way into the trailer and asks, “What is your problem?!”, Joe kind of does explode.

“My problem? My problem is you and Ms Perfect, Chloe goddamned Bridges and how she wants to marry you and have your stupid perfect babies and you’re not doing anything to discourage her.”

Nick bites his lip, sounds like he’s trying hard to control his voice when he says, “This isn’t about me and Chloe, Joe.”

“Oh, it’s not, is it? It’s not about you spending all your free time with her and laughing with her and letting her flirt with you? It’s not about you going out to dinner with her instead of seeing me for the first time in days? Because I kind of think it is about that.”

“At least Chloe lets me near her!” Nick retorts. “At least Chloe talks to me and manages to smile at me once in a while instead of sulking around the hotel room all day and throwing a hissy fit because she can’t get her hair just right!”

“You have no idea what I’m going through –“ Joe starts, and Nick curls his hands into fists.

“No, I don’t, and I’ve bent over backwards to understand and be patient and love you for it and I _do,_  Joe, I really, really do but you have to _let_ me. You get so caught up in whether you can wear your pretty clothes or do your hair that you forget there’s another person in this relationship, and I need things too, okay? I need to spend time with you without you bitching about your clothes and I need you to let me touch you without pulling away like I have a disease and yeah, I really need to be able to spend time with other girls without you freaking out.”

“Well I’m sorry it’s so freaking inconvenient to you that I’m having problems, Nick, and I’m super sorry that seeing you spending all your time with a girl who’s perfect for you worries me just a tiny bit!”

Nick’s mouth drops open. “Since when has she been ‘perfect’ for me? She’s just a friend, and the only reason you’re freaking out about her is because you’re so stressed about everything else. Well, I’m stressed too, okay, you might have forgotten that little thing where I’m i _n love with my brother_ …that wasn’t exactly in the master plan for my life, you know, and maybe that scares me.”

“Yeah, because I’ve got no idea what that feels like,” Joe spits. “and you’re right, it sucks that it’s inconvenient for you to be with me, Nick. I’m so sorry. Go off and marry Chloe instead, have your kids and be with someone who’s allowed to shave their goddamned legs without hiding it like a dirty little secret, that’d fit into your plan better, wouldn’t it?”

“I DON’T WANT CHLOE,” Nick shouts. “But maybe I should, huh? Maybe I should spend some time with someone who lets me touch them! Oh, can’t touch your stomach, your legs, can’t touch your hair because it’s not all straight and pretty like you like it, where does it stop, huh? Can’t touch your dick? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, since you’re so desperate to pretend you don’t have one?”

 

 

Nick’s words cut like a knife and Joe reels, mindless with fury and hurt. He backs up towards the door, desperate to get away.

Nick’s eyes widen and he seems to instantly regret it. He reaches out as though to touch Joe’s shoulder. “Joe…”

Joe shakes his head and twists the doorknob.

“Fuck you,” he hisses, and flees the trailer without looking back.

 

[Part Seven](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155691.html)


	7. The Lady Is Mine - Part Seven

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1)    [Part One](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154248.html#cutid1)     [Part Two](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)      [Part Three](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154874.html#cutid1)     [Part Four](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154943.html#cutid1)    [Part Five](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155326.html#cutid1)    [Part Six](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155584.html#cutid1)    
[  
  
](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/156092.html#cutid1)Half an hour later, Joe is regretting running. It’s cold, it’s very, very cold and very dark and Joe ran out without even thinking about a jacket, let alone the gloves and scarf and beanie he’d normally be wearing when it’s less than fifty degrees out.

Not that Joe really makes a habit of wandering the Canadian woods at three o’clock in the morning.

He finds the lake after a little while and sits on a large, flat outcrop that rises above the north side. The moon is full and bright, casting a silvery glow over the water’s surface and Joe stares into it, running over the fight in his mind. He’s angry at everyone and everything right now – Chloe, Nick, the long hours, the crappy weather, their stupid schedules, and most of all, at himself.

How could he let it all get so bad? Joe wonders, pulling his knees up against his chest and wrapping his arms around them to keep in any body heat. How did he let the stress get to him so much? Nick’s right – in normal circumstances he would be friends with Chloe, would be able to handle not spending time with Nick, but being disconnected from his clothes has made Joe’s entire way of thinking turn upside down. His self esteem is shot to pieces and Joe doesn’t feel secure or sure about anything anymore.

Take Nick – Joe knows Nick loves him. Of course he does, he shows it in every look, every touch, every date he takes Joe on and every little gift or note he leaves him. And yet, there’s that nasty new voice in the back of Joe’s head that asks how Nick could possibly want to stay with him when Joe’s such a mess. That says, hey, Nick likes girls, and you’re not a girl. Chloe’s a girl, a beautiful girl, and the world is full of beautiful girls, and one day Nick will leave you to be with a real girl instead of a confused boy playing dress up like a child.

Joe looks out onto the lake and imagines his future. Will every move he makes be a secret, a lie? Will every stray hair leave him in a spiral of despair? Will every pretty girl become a threat? How long can things with Nick last if Joe can’t let Nick love him like he wants to?

Joe watches the play of moonlight over the lake, hugging his knees closer to him, deep in thought.

 

 

 

He’s not surprised when he hears the crunch of footsteps behind him.

“Hey,” Nick’s voice is tentative.

“Was wondering when you’d find me,” Joe says ruefully. He doesn’t move from his huddle or look up at Nick.

“You left without a jacket,” Nick says. There’s a rustle and Joe’s feels a sudden warm weight as Nick carefully drapes a jacket over his shoulders.

He looks down at it. “Who says I want one?” he says petulantly, then completely ruins the statement with a full-body shiver.

He can practically hear Nick rolling his eyes. “Take the jacket,” he says.

Joe sighs and obeys, putting it on properly and zipping it up to his chin. He feels better instantly and offers Nick a reluctant, “Thanks.”

Nick just nods, still standing uncertainly above him.

There’s an awkward silence and Joe can’t decided if he wants to tell Nick to leave or not. Part of him just wants to be alone to mope and seethe, while another part insists that they need to work this out.

“Can I sit down?”

Joe shrugs.

Nick takes a seat next to Joe [on the rock](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/lake.png), sitting cross-legged. He doesn’t look at Joe or touch him, just gazes out on the lake.

They’re silent for a long time, until Nick finally takes a deep breath and says, “I don’t blame you if you think I’m a giant asshole for saying some of the things I did.”

“You were right,” Joe admits haltingly. “About some things, at least. But that last thing…” he shakes his head and sighs. “That hurt.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Nick says, voice heavy with regret. “I’m sorry, Joe. I was…it was a terrible thing to say.”

“So why did you have to say it?”

Nick sighs. “I was just…angry. First you won’t let me near you for weeks, then you go on this jealous rampage and I just – sometimes I really, really don’t get you, no matter how hard I try, and it frustrates me and it scares me because I used to have all the answers, you know? And now I don’t. I hate that I can’t fix you.”

“I can’t fix me, either,” Joe replies. “Nick, I don’t want to be like this, you have to believe me. I don’t want to freak out just because it’s been three weeks since I’ve felt nice. I don’t want to feel so bad about myself that I think I repulse you or that you’re gonna run off to be with someone who’s better for you.”

“What makes you think these girls – Chloe or anyone else, are better for me than you, anyway?” Nick asks curiously.

“Think about it,” Joe gestures widely. “Think about the girls you’ve been with, the girls you’ve had crushes on – Miley, Selena, Camilla, I know you even liked Dem for awhile. Chloe’s exactly what you look for in a girlfriend. Brunette, beautiful, makes you laugh, kind of famous so she understands our schedule…she’s perfect for you and so are heaps of other girls out there.”

He shrugs. “I wonder what you’re doing with me when you could have her.” Joe confesses.

Nick is silent for a long time. Then he kind of laughs softly to himself and shakes his head. Joe turns toward him in confusion. “Nick?”

“Joe, did you hear what you just said? A beautiful, famous brunette who knows how to make me laugh? Who do I know who’s exactly like that?”

Joe is totally blank for a moment. “I don’t get it.”

“You, Joe.”

Joe finally turns to look at him and finds Nick staring back intensely. “You, okay? You said it yourself, it’s everything I look for in my girls and you’re it.”

Joe shakes his head. “I can’t be your girl, Nick.”

It feels like the hardest thing he’s ever had to say and he chokes on the words, the admission that no matter how much he wants this, it can never really be.

“Why not?” Nick sounds calm and patient and Joe can’t believe he’s not getting this.

“I’m not – “Joe waves his hand at his own body and ends the sentence somewhat hysterically. “I’m not a girl!”

Nick leans forward and cups his hands over Joe’s face, pulling their foreheads together and staring into Joe’s eyes. “But you are mine. Maybe you don’t fill out a dress in quite the same way and you’ll never fit into what society thinks makes a girl, but you’re _my_ girl. You have been for months. What do you think we’ve been doing? Every time I open a car door for you or buy you dinner or carry your stupid bags for you when we go shopping, you're my girl. When you’re in sweats and a t-shirt with your hair all over the place from sleeping and pillow creases on your cheeks, you’re my girl. When you’re dressed up like a princess in your favourite clothes, you’re my girl. And yes, when you haven’t shaved in weeks and feel like a disgusting mess, _you’re still my girl._ ”

 

 

Joe’s heart does a few funny little flips and he really can’t breathe for a long moment. “Nick,” is all he really manages, closing his eyes and curling his hand around the back of Nick’s neck, holding him close.

“I love you,” Nick continues. “and I want you, all of you, all the time. I really, really need you to understand that and _remember_ it. Remember that I don’t care what your hair looks like or what clothes you’re wearing, I will still want you. Remember that even when there are girls like Chloe around, you’re the one who belongs to me. Okay?”

Joe nods tightly, still kind of overwhelmed. “Okay. I love you too. God, I love you so much.”

He tilts his head and kisses Nick desperately, trying to convey everything he can’t say into the press of their lips. Nick’s hands move to cup Joe’s jaw and his thumbs stroke over Joe’s cheeks, softening the kiss, calming him. Joe feels like he’s coming undone, like there’s too much emotion in him that’s trying to burst out.

When they break apart from the kiss, Nick keeps his hands on Joe’s face. “You’re shaking,” he whispers, and Joe honestly doesn’t know if it’s from the cold or something else entirely.

“I’m okay,” Joe whispers back. “Just stay here for a minute?”

Nick does, strong and solid as he always has been, and they sit out on that rock together until Joe feels like he can breathe again.

 

 

Finally, he nudges his nose against Nick’s. “I’m so freaking cold,” he admits sheepishly, and Nick chuckles. “Here, take this.”

He leans back and unknots his scarf, looping it around Joe’s neck. Joe dips his nose under the warm fabric, breathing Nick’s scent, and smiles, feeling his shivers subside a little. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” Nick says, pulling them both to their feet and reaching for Joe’s hand. “Let’s go back.”

Joe is still shivering when they get back to the trailer and Nick doesn’t hesitate before making him take his shoes off and bundling them both into the bunk. They lie on their sides, bodies pressing together from head to toe, noses brushing.

“There are still things we need to talk about,” Nick says, hand warm on Joe’s back under the covers. “This problem of yours with the shaving…it’s not going to go away until the end of filming and it’s probably going to happen again. You have to get used to the idea that being hairy or not straightening your hair doesn't equal being disgusting.”

“I know,” Joe says. “I’ll try. I’ve been trying. I just…I can’t shake it.”

“Maybe…” Nick starts, then shakes his head. “I dunno.”

“No, what were you going to say?”

“Just…I’ve been thinking that maybe we need someone else to talk to about all this. I mean, we don’t know what we’re doing, we never really have, and obviously we don’t really handle it well when something happens. If we had someone else’s help…”

“What like – a counselor or something?”

Nick shrugs. “Maybe. I just…I worry about you, Joe, it’s not like you to be down all the time and if I can’t help, we need to find someone who can. I want you to be happy.”

“But...Nick, we’re famous.”

“And practically every single person in Hollywood is seeing a therapist, we just don’t know about it because they’re paid well enough to keep their mouths shut,” Nick counters. “We could figure something out.”

Joe is surprised to find that he’s not entirely opposed to the idea. Having Nick’s support has been wonderful, more than he could ever have dreamed of, but it could also be amazing to be able to talk to someone else about it.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises.

They talk a while longer, painfully going over different issues that came up during the fight, problems they’ve been avoiding for weeks. It’s hard but Joe feels hopeful about it for the first time in ages.

He curls closer into Nick, seeking warmth, as the conversation dies down and the late hour starts to take its toll. Well, early hour, really; Joe can see light peeking in through the curtains and guesses it must be nearly five or six in the morning by now. Joe lets his eyes drift shut and knows tomorrow will be better.

 

 

 

 

Besides being able to shave, there’s no magical solution for Joe’s problems. Nick is not naive enough to wake up the day after their fight and expect Joe to be back to normal. Things are better, though, over the next couple of days. Joe’s smiles seem to come brighter and more often. He straightens his hair on the second night, and even though wardrobe makes him wash it out in the morning, the few hours seems to help. So does wearing his girl-sweats instead of his boy ones to bed. Nick wouldn’t have thought that would make such a difference but he supposes to Joe, the baggy black sweats are a world away from the hip-hugging lavender ones Joe prefers.

The best way for Joe to feel better, they discover, is to be able to wear things that help him feel feminine while not exposing the parts of his body which he’s grown self-conscious of. So for a couple of days it’s sweat pants and cardigans or leggings with dresses that cover Joe’s chest. It’s almost like going back to the beginning, Nick thinks, watching Joe slowly gain confidence as he works his way through new and different outfits.

Of course, things between them were much simpler back then. After the fight, Nick still feels a little tentative around his brother. He’s desperate to be close to Joe again; touch him, kiss him, hold him, the way they were before they got to Canada and everything got messed up. Nick knows Joe wants that too but he’s held back by his own insecurity, so sure that Nick sees all the imperfections Joe does. Nick can’t seem to find a way to show his brother that hairy legs or a hairy chest or - whatever - has never mattered.

Nick wishes Joe could understand how beautiful he is.

He tries to show Joe that he doesn’t care about the hair or the clothes. He tries to help him see that all Nick ever wants is to touch Joe, not because he has smooth skin or because he’s wearing a skirt, but because he’s Joe.

It takes time. The first day, Joe still flinches slightly when Nick’s hands wander. Nick is as gentle as he knows how to be, slowing his touches and pulling off the second Joe asks him to. It lasts longer than the last time, though, and Joe even lets Nick rest his hand over his belly, over the soft trail of hair there. It’s not much, but it feels like a win.

On the second day, Joe doesn’t have to film and, safe from the cameras’ gaze, wears his panties under his jeans for the first time in weeks. He’s happy all day, handsy with Nick, flirty, even, and Nick is so relieved to see a bright spark of life back in Joe’s eyes. That night, Joe doesn’t even seem to mind changing into tight leggings and a cotton dress. Nick lets Joe come to him and is thrilled when Joe slides into his lap, hands wrapping around Nick’s neck for a wet kiss. Joe is enthusiastic and responsive, smiling widely when he sneaks his hand between their bodies. He gets them both off like that, hand stroking lazily as they make out. It’s messy and fast and the farthest they’ve gotten in weeks.

 

 

Joe is getting dressed one night while Nick lounges on the couch and twiddles with his guitar. He’s had this same chord in his head all day and he doesn’t know whether it’s turning into anything or not. Filming today had been good, good but tiring, and it’s a relief for Nick to relax and concentrate on music instead of acting for a little bit.

Joe hums along as he sorts through his clothes, looking up at Nick with a smile. ‘S’good,’ he says, setting aside a pair of black stockings before returning to his work. Despite being kind of a slob with everything else, Joe is totally meticulous about his clothes. He once tried to explain his trunk to Nick – how there’s a certain place for each kind of garment – slips, tights, skirts, dresses – but Nick couldn’t get his head around it.

Nick switches up his playing to a higher key and it’s better, but not quite right. He sighs and moves smoothly into “Hey Jude” instead, singing under his breath as he watches Joe change. There always seems to be a ritual when Joe does this – a set of steps which Joe follows every time, and Nick has only recently realised that he knows each one by heart.

_Take a sad song and make it better,_ Nick sings as Joe divests himself of his boy clothes with the sigh of someone finally removing a costume after a long day. That’s step one. Step two is underwear, and Nick is unsurprised to find his heart rate kicking up a notch when the black and white ruffled [panties](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/Bijou-Boutique-Ruffled-Panties-Plus-Size.jpg) slide over Joe’s legs to settle over his hips. Even a week ago Joe wasn’t ready for this and he seems slightly self-conscious of his legs, hastening to reach step three: stockings.

Nick is pretty sure he’s never thought about body hair as much in his life as he has this past month. It’s never been anything he’s noticed, on himself or others. He understands that Joe’s taken on the idea of hairiness meaning manliness, smoothness meaning femininity. It’s just another part of the puzzle, for him. Nick guesses that’s kind of true, but he’s always been really fair with hardly any body hair, and it’s never made him feel like less of a man. He supposes it’s harder for Joe – with his darker colouring and thicker hair. It makes it more noticeable, more difficult to dismiss. Nick can admit that even though the hair doesn’t bother him, he misses being able to touch Joe’s legs and he wishes it wasn’t such a big deal for him.

_Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders._

Joe doesn’t wobble as he lifts one foot to pull the rolled up nylon up over his ankle, calf, finally stopping when he reaches mid-thigh. Nick loves Joe in [stockings](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/Juzo20thigh20high205140.jpg) and a zing of pleasure shoots down his spine at the way the black material compliments the shape of Joe’s legs, his thighs. Compared to how klutzy Joe can be, he’s always graceful when he dresses, hands gentle and careful as he adjust the stockings so they sit just right.

_Remember to let her into your heart,_ Nick sings again as Joe reaches the final step – a blue satin [slip](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/V302734.jpg) with some lacy black bits on it. He smoothes the fabric down his chest, adjusts his hair and smiles at Nick. “All done.”

“You look great,” Nick compliments, and he means it.

_“Better better better,_ ” Joe sings, bending down to put his trunk back in order. There’s a flash of red as he drops a pair of panties and Nick puts his guitar aside, leaning off the couch to pick them off the floor.

He’s surprised to see they’re not panties at all – just a square of red silk with Joe’s initials embroidered in one corner. Nick frowns. Since when does Joe use handkerchiefs?

“This is nice,” he says. “Where did you get it?”

Joe looks up. When he catches sight of what Nick’s holding he drops a pile of skirts with a gasp, eyes widening. “Oh,” he breathes, coming over to take the handkerchief from Nick. “I haven’t seen this in years.”

He sits down on the couch next to Nick, gaze caught on the handkerchief as he turns it over in his hands, lost in thought. He doesn't look up until Nick says his name twice.

“What?”

“I said, where did you get it?”

“It was a gift,” Joe says slowly. “From someone…someone really special.”

Nick leans closer, intrigued. “Who?”

“It's kind of a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Joe regards him for a moment before he gets more comfortable, folding one leg delicately under himself and adjusting the slip over his thighs.

“Do you remember when I was in _La Boheme_ _?_ ”

Nick frowns. “Kind of? You were like twelve or something, right? I remember you talking about it all the time. Mom couldn’t get you to shut up.”

“Eleven,” Joe corrects. “I was eleven. And I was – god, Nick, I was freaking out.”

Nick’s heart clenches uncomfortably and he shifts closer still, his bare knee brushing the material of Joe’s nightie. “Go on.”

Joe swallows and continues, “It was like – everything was really confused, you know? We were growing up. You were on Broadway already, Kevin had his first girlfriend…I was looking at girls too. I didn't realise at the time, but it was probably because I was jealous of them.

I’d get these random thoughts - thoughts about feeling wrong or different or like..like something was missing from me, you know? But I couldn’t figure out why. I’d walk past a shop with dresses in the window and want to go try one on so badly…then I’d wonder why. I knew it wasn’t how I was supposed to be thinking. I mean – Nick, in your whole life, have you ever once felt the desire to wear a skirt?”

“Never,” Nick says honestly, and Joe nods. “Exactly. And I knew that that was true for every boy I knew. So there must have been something wrong with me for wanting it the other way around.”

Nick feels the same familiar, guilty ache when he thinks about Joe’s lonely childhood. Every time Joe talks it about, it just reminds Nick of all the times Joe’s felt isolated, scared, with no-one there to help him. He slips his fingers into Joe’s hair, rubbing gently at the back of his neck as Joe talks. It’s small comfort for years of hurt, but Joe flashes him a tiny smile and moves into the touch, so Nick hopes it’s worth something.

“It was the first year I stole something from Mom,” Joe says, still staring down at the handkerchief, rubbing his thumb over the gold “J” in the corner. “Do you remember that purple nightgown she thought she lost?”

“That was you?” Nick says, surprised. Mom had had that thing for years. Nick can still remember the thick lavender material, his mother messy and beautiful, wrapped up in the warm gown when she woke them up for school on winter mornings. Mom had been so upset when it suddenly disappeared.

Joe nods. “I felt sick when I did it,” he admits. “But putting that nightgown on –“ he sighs and smiles, bittersweet, at the memory. “It was the first time in my life I felt like I was wearing the right clothes.”

Nick can almost see it – Joe at eleven, all big eyes and dark hair in that stupid bowl cut he had back then, drowning in the enormous purple gown but smiling, wide and happy.

“And this?” He taps at the handkerchief, bringing Joe back to the story.

“Jess – the woman who gave this to me – she kind of helped, with all that stuff.”

“Who was she?”

“She was the lead in the play,” Joe explains. “She was like the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, Nick, and she was so nice to me. I mean, I was just this weedy, shy chorus line kid but for some reason she liked me.

I remember – I was so jealous of her. She wore these amazing costumes and she was so elegant, you know? Beautiful. Anyway, I told her once that I wished I could wear something like hers, but I couldn’t, because boys don’t get to wear pretty clothes.”

“You told her?” Nick asks, surprised. He’d always thought he was the only one to know Joe’s secret.

“I trusted her,” Joe says defensively. “I thought…I don’t know. I thought she’d understand, maybe. And she kind of did. She said to me – and I’ll never forget it – _some boys do_ – and then told me there was nothing wrong with it.”

Joe takes a deep breath and squeezes the handkerchief in his fingers. “She was the first,” he says thickly. “The first one to tell me that I was okay for wanting the things I did.”

Oh, _Joe_. Nick presses a kiss into his hair and Joe drops his head to rest on Nick’s shoulder as he finishes the story. “She gave this to me on the last night. I guess it was her way of saying goodbye. I don’t remember, exactly, but she said something about how it takes courage to be yourself, and that I should always try to be brave.”

“You must have been so happy,” Nick says, touching a fingertip to the handkerchief. “It’s pretty.”

“It is,” Joe says. “And it was like she’d given me permission, you know? The next time I wore my girl clothes I didn’t feel as bad about it.”

“And now you’re here,” Nick says, not bothering to hide the proud tone of his voice. He slips his arm around Joe’s waist, thumb brushing the material of Joe’s camisole to remind him of its presence.

“Now I’m here,” Joe agrees. “Having psycho meltdowns because I can’t shave my legs, still hiding from everyone except you. Real brave.”

“Are you kidding?” Nick pulls back and waits for Joe to look him in the eyes. “You’re - Joe, you’re like, the bravest person I know.”

Joe’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

“Oh, I don't know. Because you spent most of your life being taught that dressing the way you do makes you a freak and you did it anyway? Because you've risked everything to be who you are? Because you're not ashamed of it? Because stuff like this –“ Nick indicates Joe's still hairy chest and Joe covers it protectively with his hand. “bothers you but you don't let it defeat you?”

Nick knocks the handkerchief aside so he can take Joe's hands and squeeze, hard. “Look at you. When you were eleven all you wanted was to be beautiful and girly and wear pretty clothes. And it's been hard and scary but you _did_ it, Joe.”

He kisses Joe softly. “You did it.”

 

 

They kiss again and Joe melts into it with a sigh, his mouth warm and giving under Nick’s, his fingers carding through the curls at the back of Nick’s neck. When their lips finally part, Joe tilts their foreheads together. “She was the first,” he whispers, “to accept me. But you were the most important.”

“You’re my brother,” Nick says, like it’s just that simple. They both know it wasn’t, that the first weeks of awkwardness and silence between them will attest to that.

“I know it hasn’t been easy,” Joe says, squeezing Nick’s knee. “But it’s been – it’s _meant_ everything. To have you. I’ve been wanting to say…thank you.”

“For what?”

“Loving me.”

 

 

 

The kiss that Joe bestows on Nick’s lips is probably meant to be quick – a little thank you peck like the ones he lands on Nick’s cheeks after dates. Nick draws it out, licks at Joe’s lips until they part for him. Joe’s tongue touches his and Nick tightens his hold around Joe’s waist, encouraging Joe to move closer. Joe’s mouth is sweet and Nick chases the taste, deepening the kiss.

He slips his hand into Joe’s hair, silky strands winding around his fingers as he tilts Joe’s head for a better angle. It’s a slow progression from an innocent kiss to something dirtier. Nick’s thoughts start going fuzzy when Joe sucks on his tongue and wraps an arm around Nick’s shoulder, almost in Nick’s lap now.

Nick can feel himself getting hard, just from the wet tangle of their tongues. He rests his other hand on Joe’s leg, stroking over the lacy edging at the top of Joe’s stockings. Joe breaks away for a moment to exhale in a rush of warmth over Nick’s cheek and Nick has a moment to breathe, too, before Joe’s licking his way back into Nick’s mouth, a bit more urgent now. Joe’s hand trails down from Nick’s shoulder to his chest, his stomach. He comes to a standstill at Nick’s thigh, inches from his stiffening cock and the promise of it makes Nick gasp and bite down on Joe’s mouth.

It’s not a hard bite, thankfully, and Joe makes another small noise in the back of his throat as he rubs his thumb over Nick’s thigh. Nick bites again; a gentle nip at Joe’s bottom lip and Joe whines. Nick has never really bitten any of his other girlfriends, they never seemed to like it. Joe seems to adore it, doesn’t even mind the small red marks Nick sometimes leaves on his neck or chest. Nick likes it too - the outline of his uneven teeth on Joe’s golden skin; a reminder.

Joe keeps kissing him, leisurely and teasing, and it’s good, it’s great, but Nick just wants more. He lets his touch move from Joe’s neck to trail down his shoulders, following the line of his back, down to the swell of Joe’s ass.

They haven’t – not in weeks and Nick is tentative about it as he lets his hand rest there. He can feel the waistband of Joe’s panties through the thin material of the slip and he rubs at it, questioning. Joe’s hand stills on Nick and he pulls away, their mouths disconnecting with a wet, slippy sound and a gasped, “Wait,”

Nick’s heart sinks and he sits back with a sigh. Joe must see the disappointment on his face because he surges forward to kiss Nick, hard and fast. “No, not wait-wait, just – this usually works better when we’re on the bed.”

“Oh!” Nick says, relieved. “Good point.”

Joe reaches for the discarded handkerchief. “I need to put this away, too. I don’t want to lose it.”

 

 

Nick stands, stripping out of his t-shirt and boxers as he heads for the bed. The cool night air on his aching cock makes him shiver and Nick reaches down to give himself a quick squeeze, biting his lip at how good it feels. Just the thought of finally getting to fuck Joe has Nick’s whole body on high alert; blood pulsing and heat spreading under his skin. He sits on the end of the bed and tries to keep his hands to himself, watches greedily as Joe bends over his trunk to tuck the handkerchief carefully away.

Nick holds one hand out and Joe steps forward to take it, allows Nick to pull him closer. With Joe still standing, Nick is eye level to his flat stomach and he presses a kiss there, lips gentle on the blue silk. Joe’s hand comes down to rest in Nick’s hair and he tugs lightly on Nick’s curls, making Nick look up. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna break.”

Nick kisses his stomach again and smooths his hands up under the slip. He hooks his thumbs into the panties and holds Joe’s eyes as he tugs gently on the waistband. Joe's lips part on a silent breath but he doesn't look away as Nick tugs again. The panties come loose and Nick pulls them down, over Joe’s thick thighs, past the stockings, and Joe balances with one hand on Nick’s shoulder as he steps out of them.

Nick scoots back on the bed, gesturing for Joe to join him. “You wanna leave the rest on?”

“Yeah.”

 

 

They fall back into the kiss easily, Joe sliding up the bed to lie over Nick, the satin of his slip sinfully soft where it rubs over Nick’s cock. He moans quietly and doesn’t hesitate when his hands move from Joe’s waist down to grip his ass, tugging the slip up so he can reach bare skin.

Joe jolts against him, moaning into Nick’s mouth. Nick lets his fingers slip down to rub over Joe’s hole and Joe spreads his legs, eager. Nick can feel how hard he is, thick hot length of him against Nick’s stomach. He touches at the thin, dry skin of Joe’s hole, rubs over the rim while Joe’s breath stutters above him.

“Lube,” Joe gasps, yanking their mouths apart. “C’mon.”

Nick loves how into it Joe gets, all flushed and wanting as he climbs off Nick and stretches out on his stomach, hands wrapping around the pillow. Nick sucks in a harsh breath as he takes in the sight; his gorgeous brother all laid out for him, stockings encasing his legs and slip rucked up to his waist to expose his full, round ass. “Jesus, Joe,” he breathes.

Joe looks at him over his shoulder, hair falling into his eyes as he grins lazily at Nick. “What, you think I haven’t been wanting it too?”

Nick lets himself look at him for a moment and then puts the lube aside, wrapping his hands around Joe’s ankles and smoothing them up his calves, over the stockings. He thumbs at the crease of Joe’s thigh, the soft, forgotten place just under the curve of his ass, then finally parts Joe’s cheeks and leans down to open his mouth, flick his tongue over Joe’s hole.

Joe jumps and groans. “Jeez, Nick,” he murmurs. “Warn a girl.”

Nick smirks. “Sorry.”

They’re still so new to all this that it’s only the second time Nick is trying it. Joe had gone _wild_ for it the first time, thrashing on the bed while Nick held him down by the hips and worked his tongue slowly inside. Nick liked it too – the dirtyhotwrong of it, Joe’s taste and the way his body contracted around Nick’s tongue, responsive and tight.

He leans back down, encouraging Joe’s legs even further apart and breathing a warm puff of air over the dark pink skin.

“Okay, here’s your warning,” Nick swallows, hesitates. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna eat you out.”

Joe moans, loud and broken, and Nick’s nerves vanish. It hadn’t taken long to realise the effect this kind of talk has on Joe, how much it turns him on to be talked to like a girl during sex. The words don’t always come easily to Nick, but Joe’s reactions are always, always worth it.

“Oh god,” Joe says faintly, rising up a little as he reaches down and closes his fingers around his own cock. “Do it.”

 

Nick swirls his tongue in soft, gentle licks around Joe’s hole, dipping in and then pulling back, teasing. He rubs his lips over the tight pucker, kisses there, then rolls his tongue forward to nudge inside. Joe’s hips twitch and he hisses out Nick’s name from between his teeth.

Nick knows it’s better for Joe if he draws it out, gets him right on the edge before he fucks him, but it’s been so long and Nick just wants to get _inside_. He licks and sucks at Joe for a few more minutes, fucking in a few times, deep, just to hear Joe whimper into the pillow. Finally, he leans back and gets a hand on himself, jerking fast and tight as he surveys his work. Joe’s spit-shiny, slippery from Nick’s mouth. “All wet,” Nick mumbles, thick-tongued.

“Y-yeah,” Joe says, fingers twisting in the pillow. “Nick, are you – _oh._ ”

Nick hears himself make the same noise as he presses one lube-slick finger inside. “You’re tight,” Nick mutters, cock throbbing as he takes in the clench of Joe’s muscles around his finger.

“It’s been awhile,” Joe reminds him. “Just go slow, yeah?”

Nick nods, but it’s a huge challenge. He fingers Joe for a long time, stretching him properly, watching Joe take him. He waits for Joe to ask for it, and when Joe looks back at him with dark, liquid eyes and murmurs, “Please,” it’s all Nick needs.

He shifts up the bed, holds Joe open and watches hungrily as he fits himself slowly inside, as Joe’s body closes around him. Joe sighs, hips twitching restlessly against the sheets. Nick lets himself drop forward, blanketing Joe’s body, slotting in shallowly a few times so Joe can get used to him again. He noses at the back of Joe’s neck, breathes damply into his hair. “Good?”

Joe nods, turns his head on the pillow so he can see Nick properly. He’s flushed and beautiful, eyes closing in pleasure when Nick sinks in a little deeper. “Really good,” he replies, breathy.

Nick fits his hands around Joe’s hips, squeezing lightly. “Up.”

 

 

It takes some awkward manoeuvring to get them in the position Nick wants. He sits, heels tucked under his hips and thighs spread, and pulls Joe back against his chest so he can slide inside again from behind, hands steadying on Joe’s hips as Joe lowers himself down. Nick drops his head to Joe’s shoulder and groans roughly once Joe is fully seated, ass flush to Nick’s hips and overwhelmingly tight around his cock.

“F-fuck,” he whispers jerkily when Joe moves experimentally, muscles squeezing down on him and making sparks explode all over Nick’s body. He nudges Joe’s legs further apart with his knees; bare skin against dark stockings, the backs of Joe’s thighs tense against Nick’s as Nick rises up, starts a slow, leisurely thrusting.

Joe gasps loudly and Nick kisses the back of his neck, his shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing,” Joe leans against him, reaching down to close his fingers around his cock as Nick fucks into him. “It’s just – like this – you feel _huge_. It’s…fuck, Nick.”

Nick wraps his arms tightly around Joe’s waist, bunching in the fabric of Joe’s slip and holding him up as he slides into Joe’s heat again, again, Joe so tight and slick inside. He turns his face into Joe’s neck, head spinning as his nose is filled with Joe’s scent. “God, you smell so good,” he whispers, stroking Joe’s stomach through the slip as Joe’s breath speeds up. He licks and kisses at the thin skin of Joe’s neck, tasting salt and inhaling the warm, flowery-soft smell of Joe’s favourite perfume. “So good,” he repeats, hot in Joe’s ear before he takes the lobe into his mouth and sucks gently. Joe curses, ragged, and clenches down so hard that Nick sees stars.

Joe’s hands wrap around Nick’s wrists, holding him tightly in place as he rides Nick’s thrusts. It’s all slow, liquid heat, sweat starting to bead all over Nick’s body and the air in the room seems thick and moist, silence only broken by their soft gasps and low moans. Nick’s thighs are starting to ache but he doesn’t want this to end, not ever, and it hits him like a flash that nothing has ever felt as perfect as he and Joe, moving and rocking together, entwined, inseparable.

And _this_ is what he missed. Not just the sex, which – fuck, is amazing – but the connection. It’s having Joe all to himself, the real Joe, the secret, beautiful, soft girl-Joe that only Nick knows. It’s being joined to him in a way no one else ever has. It’s sliding his hand over Joe’s chest and feeling the necklace he gave to Joe solid against his palm. It’s the way Joe moves on him like he’s never felt anything better than Nick fucking him, the way Joe murmurs Nick’s name under his breath, over and over, the way he curls his hand around Nick’s wrists as though to ensure Nick will never let him go.

Nick’s close, so close, so he noses against Joe’s soft, sweat-damp hair. “Faster,” he says and Joe speeds up, rocking harder in Nick’s lap, thigh muscles tightening with the effort. The movement makes Nick’s stomach jolt and flip, his whole body throbbing with the need for release. “That’s my girl,” Nick says, nose rubbing fondly against Joe’s neck and Joe shivers, breath hitching sharply and he takes Nick impossibly deeper on the next thrust down. “Again,” Joe gasps, and Nick smiles into his skin as he repeats the words. “That’s my girl.”

“I love you, Nick, oh, _god,_ come here.” Joe turns his head, neck twisting awkwardly as he seeks out Nick’s mouth and Nick lets his eyes slide shut. He tightens his arms around Joe’s waist, satin slip-sliding fluidly under his fingers as Joe’s mouth opens slickly under his.

It’s too much, it’s overwhelmingly, mindblowingly good and Nick feels himself crashing toward the end, strung out on Joe’s body around his cock and Joe’s skin under his hands and Joe’s scent in his nose and Joe’s mouth on his. It all crashes and tangles together in an endless stream of _JoeJoeJoe_ until it’s the only word Nick knows. When Joe reaches up behind him to cup the back of Nick’s neck, tugging on his curls, Nick has to pull out of the kiss to pant into Joe’s neck as his orgasm crashes over him.

It feels like exploding from the inside out and Nick squeezes his eyes shut as he comes and comes, waves of red-hot feeling throbbing and sparking and he can’t see, he can’t hear, can’t even feel anything except for that exquisite pulse of pleasure.

Nick’s brain is practically dripping out of his ears and he doesn’t even open his eyes, just leans heavily against his brother as he reaches down. Joe’s got a hand on himself, stroking roughly and Nick knocks it out of the way, jerks him hard and tight as he mouths clumsily at Joe’s neck and Joe comes with a strangled moan.

 

 

 

 

Later, once they’ve eased their sweat-slick bodies apart, cleaned up and fallen into a tangle of limbs on the bed, once Nick’s body has gone heavy and loose, he curls himself around Joe and waits for Joe to get the light.

Nick is so busy being grateful at having Joe close again that he almost forgets the conversation that led them here. He tucks his face into Joe’s neck, squeezes Joe’s hip to get his attention.

“Joe?”

“Mmm?” Joe’s voice is warm and sleepy.

“Did you ever see her again? Jess?”

“Oh,” Joe says, shifting slightly and sounding more alert. “No, I didn’t.”

“You should try.”

“I’d like to.” Joe touches lightly at Nick’s hand on his hip, tapping out an aimless pattern. “I’d like to tell her that I figured some things out. That she helped, you know?”

“We’ll find her,” Nick promises, making a mental note to at least look her up online later. “And when we finish with the movie, maybe you could see her, sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Joe yawns and laces their fingers loosely together. “Hey, if she’s still doing theatre, will you take me to a show?”

Nick squeezes his fingers. “It’s a date.”

 

[Part Eight](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/156092.html#cutid1)


	8. The Lady Is Mine - Part Eight

   
 

[Picspam](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/153045.html#cutid1) [Part One](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154248.html#cutid1)     [Part Two](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154483.html#cutid1)      [Part Three](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154874.html#cutid1)     [Part Four](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/154943.html#cutid1)   [Part Five](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155326.html#cutid1)    [Part Six](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155584.html#cutid1)    [Part Seven](http://ashavahishta.livejournal.com/155691.html) 

They’ve both been counting down the days until Joe is finished filming. When he finally gets the all clear from the director, it’s after the final pick ups for his and Demi’s duet. “So you’re absolutely certain that I’m done?” Joe asks.

“Signed, sealed, delivered,” Paul confirms, and Joe practically skips off set.

It’s late when he lets himself into the hotel room and the room is dark. Nick finished hours ago and is already in bed, snoring quietly. Joe is almost too excited to sleep but he crawls into Nick’s bed, wanting to be close to him tonight. Nick’s a pretty light sleeper and he rolls over almost as soon as the mattress dips with Joe’s weight, making a soft questioning noise. “Just me,” Joe says as Nick pulls him close and fits his chest to Joe’s back.

“Mmm, hi,” Nick rasps, dropping a clumsy kiss into Joe’s hair. “How was it?”

"Fine."

"Tell me about it tomorrow, kay?" Nick says, voice scratchy with sleep. "Night, baby."

 

“Wait, wait,” Joe grabs for Nick’s hand where it’s settled around his waist and squeezes.

“What?”

“I get to shave tomorrow.” Joe feels his face split into a huge, excited grin at the mere thought.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Can’t wait. Gonna be all bare and smooth all over, finally.”

“Mm, all over?” Nick says into Joe’s ear, skimming his fingers up Joe’s side.

Joe kind of squirms happily, pressing back into Nick’s body. “All.Over.”

“Do your hair?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wear something nice? Get yourself all pretty?”

“That’s right,” Joe’s practically purring by now. “Any preferences?”

“Something slutty,” Nick says, and Joe can hear the grin in his voice. “Something I can take off you easily.”

Joe laughs. “I can manage that.”

 

 

 

Joe sleeps in the next day and wakes up to find Nick’s side of the bed empty, but when he goes into the bathroom he finds a note taped to the mirror, written on hotel stationary in Nick’s careful hand. It merely says, _have fun. Love you._

Joe grins to himself and rifles through his bag until he finds the supplies he needs, bought days ago in preparation.

It takes a long, long time and a ridiculous amount of shaving cream, but Joe knows as soon as he’s done that he’s removed far more than just hair. He feels like a huge weight has been lifted off him and he can’t stop smiling and running his hands all over the newly liberated skin of his stomach and chest, his legs.

He runs a hot bath and checks his phone before getting in, finding a text from Nick.

_Break time. Mdot and I playing bball. What are you doing?_

_  
pampering ;)^_

__

 

_and is it all gone?_

__

 

_It’s allllllllll gone :D :D :D_

__

 

_..wanna see you_

__

 

_You will. A few hours ~:)_

Joe soaks in the bath for a long time, washing his hair twice and using his most decadent, best smelling bodywash. When he climbs out, he dries his hair and straightens it lovingly, watching the mop of curls transform into silky waves.

Joe’s practically shaking with excitement when he opens his trunk. For once he wishes he didn’t own so many clothes; he’s totally spoiled for choice and just wants to wear everything at once. He shrugs and decides hey, who said he only had to wear one outfit? He has some time before Nick gets back.

He decides to start simple with a ruffled, highwaisted green [skirt and black halter.](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/quail_skirt.jpg) When Joe turns to look in the mirror this time, he hesitates just a little bit, remembering the disaster that was the last time he did this.

He shouldn’t have worried, and the minute Joe sees himself, joy and relief rushes over him. His legs look fantastic, smooth and soft and shaped just right. His waist looks curvier than usual thanks to the high skirt, only bare skin and his hearts necklace showing on his chest, no hair in sight. Joe resists the urge to jump up and down in glee and texts Nick instead. _I FEEL AMAZING :)))))))_

_I bet you do. I bet you look amazing too…thinking about touching you…2 hours to go._

Joe thinks about Nick, about touching him and having Nick touch him. He can’t wait for Nick to come back, wonders how he’ll react to Joe, what he’ll do. He wants Nick’s skin under his hands, wants to sinks his fingers into Nick’s curls and squeeze Nick’s strong shoulders and taste Nick’s mouth.

Joe thinks about Nick as he strips out of the green skirt and changes it to a silk burgundy [slip](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/sally-jones-giselle-lace-and-silk-babydoll-by-sally-jones.jpg), the fabric flowing over his body like water, and he bites his lip in pleasure. The skin of his chest and stomach is so new and sensitive, and the fabric feels absolutely incredible.

Joe thinks about Nick when the burgundy comes off to be replaced by a tiny [mini](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/blue-plaid-mini-skirt.jpg) and lace [tank.](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/img-thing.jpg) He’s half hard from the clothes and the thoughts of Nick’s hands on him, and Joe doesn’t bother to trap his erection in panties as he peruses the play of the pleats over his thighs.

He spots his phone on the bedside table and picks it up on impulse, angling the phone in front of him and pulling the tank top up a little to expose his hip before snapping a picture. Joe’s delighted to look at the photo and realize that he’s hit just the right angle that you can’t even tell he’s a guy. It’s kind of shadowy and all that’s showing is the curve of his hip and the mini brushing the top of one thigh. It’s sexy, Joe thinks giddily, and sends it to Nick without a word of text, loves the idea of getting Nick all riled up while he’s on set.

Joe imagines Nick opening his phone to find Joe’s picture, the look of shock on his face and how maybe he’d groan a little, how he’d like the little flash of skin, the tease, the anticipation. How maybe he’d get hard in his jeans, flush hot and bite his lip. Joe groans at the image and lies back on the bed, abandoning the dress ups in favour of running his hands over his own body, feeling all the warm, silky skin as he waits for Nick’s reply.

It doesn’t take long for his phone to trill happily and Joe practically lunges for it. Nick’s reply is nonsensical, just a string of letters that appear to be mostly vowels, and then, a few seconds later, _ohgodohgodohgodjoe._

Joe is in the middle of tapping out a reply (and considering taking a few more pictures), when his phone buzzes again, _…also, mdot saw that. Asked me where I was hiding the hot chick who was sextng me ;)_

Joe bursts into happy laughter and replies, _tell him I’m laid out on your bed thinking about your dick…how long?_

__

 

_one more scene…35 minutes. Hope ur ready bcaus im not wasting any time._

 

“Oh, god,” Joe murmurs to himself, and takes Nick’s text as permission to slide his fingers under his skirt and wrap them around his cock, gasping and imagining it’s Nick’s hand on him. It’s been weeks since Joe’s felt arousal like this, like he’s going to burst out of his skin if he doesn’t come soon. Joe thinks about Nick coming home and bending Joe over the couch, rucking his skirt up and fucking him. He suddenly _aches_ to have something inside him. Joe sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets them wet and rubs them over his hole, jerks his cock harder and faster as he works one, two, three fingers inside. He gets himself off like that, fingering himself deep and coming too fast, overwhelmed.

 

 

 

 

By the time Nick should be returning, Joe’s cleaned up and changed again, practically writhing with anticipation. He’d remembered their conversation weeks ago and dug out the white crotchless panties he’d promised Nick. He’s never worn crotchless before and these ones were a very special order, kind of hard to find when Joe had first gotten the idea. They’re made especially for men, unlike most of the panties Joe owns; with a lace trimmed v-shape in the front and an opening for his cock, then open again in the back, exposing Joe’s ass. They feel odd at first but Joe decides he likes the slutty, naughty feeling of it, loves the idea of Nick fucking him while he’s still in panties.

The rest of Joe’s final outfit is simple; a fitted black [bustier](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/V279499_RCB73.jpg) in heavy satin, the back clipped up tight so it clings to Joe’s chest and stomach without the need for shoulder straps. He also goes for a matching black silk [skirt ](http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c29/Dot1234/Josie/Satin20Pleated20Skirt.jpg)which falls to mid-thigh in narrow, flirty pleats.

 

 

Joe hears the door click and sprints across the room, reaching his brother just as Nick slams the door behind him and throws his bag down.

“Fuck, hi,” Joe has time to say before Nick is on him and Joe is enveloped in a messy, desperate kiss, Nick wasting no time in opening his mouth over Joe’s and sliding his tongue inside. Joe fists his hands in Nick’s hair and lets Nick walk him backwards and press him onto the nearest surface, which happens to be a wall. Joe leans against it and pulls Nick tighter to him, clutching Nick’s shoulders. Nick’s hands are everywhere, his waist, his hips, sliding around to squeeze Joe’s ass through his skirt and Joe has to break away from the kiss to moan loudly as his cock goes hard so fast his head spins.

Nick uses the break to step back a few inches and take in Joe's outfit, his gaze hot as it roves over Joe's exposed hips in the gap between skirt and top. "God, you look gorgeous," Nick says, and Joe smiles into it as Nick kisses him again.

 

 

Nick pulls them away from the wall, still kissing Joe like he’s drowning for it and walking Joe backwards again until Joe’s butt hits the big, heavy dresser against the other wall. Nick doesn’t hesitate for a second, just slides his hands around the backs of Joe’s thighs and lifts him onto the dresser like he weighs nothing.

Joe gasps and hooks his heels into the small of Nick’s back, leaning back to sweep as much crap as he can off the dresser surface to make room. Nick’s hands have found Joe’s newly hairless thighs and he caresses them almost frantically, pushing the skirt up as he seeks more and more skin to touch.

Nick’s wild with it, intense, and Joe feels the same way, like he’s burning up from the inside out, electricity sparking hot in the air between them. Nick’s hands are all over Joe’s thighs, pushing one up and out so he can step in between and rub their cocks together through layers of fabric. Nick’s jeans are rough against the skin on Joe’s inner thighs and Joe pulls back long enough to fumble for Nick’s belt buckle. “Off, get them off,” he demands breathlessly, and leans back on his hands to watch as Nick strips naked at the speed of light. 

Nick slots back into the space between Joe’s legs, hands insistent as he reaches for Joe’s ass. He gasps when his fingers find skin instead of fabric, raising his eyebrows at Joe in question. “What, I promised crotchless, didn’t I?” Joe reminds him. Nick doesn’t answer, just sucks Joe’s lower lip into his mouth as his fingers move down to rub over Joe’s hole. Joe knows he’s still wet down there from before, and Nick must feel it because he freezes, looking at Joe with wide eyes.

“I already…” Joe whines, scooting forward on the dresser, pushing himself closer to Nick’s hand. “I couldn’t wait.”

Nick drops his face into Joe’s neck and bites down, hard, on Joe’s collarbone to muffle a loud, guttural groan. “I jerked off twice on set today,” Nick pants into Joe’s neck as he presses two fingers inside Joe, Joe opening easily. “After you sent me the picture…oh god, I thought I was going to die I was so hard. Had to sneak off into the bathroom, then again after lunch. Fuck, Joe.”

Joe moans and reaches down for his skirt, pulling it up to bunch around his waist and expose himself to Nick. He tilts his hips so Nick has better access, offering. “Please,” he gasps.

Nick steadies himself with one hand on Joe’s hip and then just pushes his cock inside in one rough, long stab that makes Joe suck in a huge, gulping breath. It’s so good to be _full_ , Nick thick and hot inside like he belongs there.

Joe holds on tight to Nick’s shoulders, holding himself up as Nick fucks him hard and fast and perfect. The dresser bangs rhythmically against the wall with Nick’s thrusts and anything that’s left on there rattles and shakes around them. Joe can’t hold himself up for long, delirious with the feel of Nick inside him, splitting him open.

He ends up stretched out on the dresser, tilted sideways so his head doesn’t bash straight through the wall, with one leg held high on Nick’s side as Nick drives into him again and again. Nick has his mouth open over Joe’s shoulder, panting harshly, and all Joe can do is dig his fingers into Nick’s back and hold on for dear life.

Nick’s mouth opens over his throat and he sucks the skin into his mouth, and Joe can feel the throb of blood coming to the surface, imagines Nick marking him up, making Joe his. Nick’s going so hard that it makes Joe gasp with every thrust, and he loves it, wants it to go on forever, mouthing Nick’s name in between moans.

Nick lifts his mouth from Joe’s neck and tilts his head up to kiss him but they’re both too far gone to really manage it, can only breathe each other’s air, lips open against each other as they pant. Joe hears a crash and only spares a second to wonder what happened before he’s completely distracted by the feel of Nick’s hand wrapping around his cock. Nick leans over him, one hand still clenched tight round Joe’s hip, holding him steady as he strokes Joe off. “Joe…fuck, Joe.”

Joe shudders and rolls his hips down to meet him, taking Nick deeper and fucking himself into Nick’s hand.

“Want you to come, baby,” Nick says, pupils blown wide and sweat-drenched curls falling into his eyes. 

“Ungh, Nick, ohgodohgod, Nick, love you, love you,”

Joe forgets how to talk, totally lost in sensation. His neck is straining from throwing it back, legs shaking where they’re locked around Nick’s back. Nick works his cock mercilessly, pumping him tight and hot, and Joe’s back curves clear off the dresser in a perfect arch, his breaths straining against the tight binding of his bustier. “That’s it,” Nick coaxes. “Come on."

Nick slows down, fucks in deep and starts rolling his hips in long thrusts that Joe feels with his whole body. Joe thrashes against the dresser from the new angle, toes flexing and curling against Nick’s body. When his orgasm hits, he goes almost totally silent, just shuddering in mindless waves, heart pounding in his ears. His body feels like one long muscle, everything straining and taut, clenching up in spasms of ecstasy so strong Joe chokes for breath.

 

 

In the aftermath, Joe falls bonelessly backwards, legs still clasped around Nick’s body and pulling Nick weakly with him. He can still feel Nick hard inside and he digs his heels into Nick’s back, urging Nick to move. “Don’t stop,” he pants, still struggling for air.

Nick breathes Joe’s name and lifts his hips as he starts to move again. Joe lies pliant, letting Nick do whatever he needs to finish. Joe’s over-sensitive, throbbing inside and he groans softly with every thrust in.

Nick leans forward and cups his one hand over the back of Joe’s neck, tilting his head up. “Come ‘ere,” he says, and Joe closes the final inches between them for a kiss. The second Nick’s tongue touches his, Nick is coming, groaning against Joe’s mouth. Joe can feel the wet pulse of it in his ass and it’s far hotter than it has any right to be.

 

 

Nick kind of falls forward onto him, letting Joe and the dresser take his weight as he catches his breath. They’re silent for a long time, Nick resting with his head pillowed on Joe’s chest and Joe tangling his fingers in Nick’s hair.

Joe finally works up the energy to uncross his legs from around Nick’s back and lets them fall open with a pained sigh. He laughs. “I think you broke me.”

Nick doesn’t answer, but he does smooth his hands up Joe’s thighs to stroke and massage the strained muscle. Joe shifts experimentally, feeling little zings of feeling go off all over his body, equal parts pain and the aftershocks of pleasure.

Nick pulls out slowly and straightens up, looking down at Joe with glassy eyes. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “Shower.”

Joe doesn’t lift his head from the dresser. “Mmm, no, bath,” he argues. “I can’t stand long enough to shower. I told you, you broke me,” he laughs softly and throws his arm over his eyes. “You break it, you bought it.”

Nick's hands land on Joe's thighs again, smoothing upwards as he looks down at Joe with a fond smile. "You're already mine."

Joe smiles back. "I know. Oh god, help me up. I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

Nick huffs in laughter and slides his hands under Joe’s back to help him sit up.

“Alright, princess. Bath it is.”

 

 

It seems to take a lot of effort for Joe to find his feet as he slides gingerly off the dresser and he narrowly avoids stepping on a large paperweight that presumably got knocked over in their desperation. “Careful,” Nick warns in a somewhat sheepish tone. “We kind of broke a lamp and there’s glass in the carpet.”

“So that’s what that crash was,” Joe says with a laugh. “Wow.”

They wobble into the bathroom together, Nick butt naked and Joe significantly rumpled but still dressed in his top and skirt. Nick runs the bath as Joe strips slowly and they take a moment to assess the damage as the big, old fashioned tub fills.

Joe has a large red mark on his collarbone and a matching bruise on his throat, both in the shape of Nick’s mouth. When he turns around Nick informs him of the little pink scratches dotting his spine from the line of clips on the back of his bustier. Nick is not in much better shape; he has total sex hair, ruffled and sticking up all over the place, and Joe gasps when he takes note of the long red lines across the pale skin of Nick’s back and shoulders, indents of Joe’s fingers.

Joe lets Nick climb in first, hissing when his back comes to rest against the cold porcelain edge, then Joe lowers himself to settle between Nick’s legs, curling up with his head on Nick’s chest. They soak together in silence, steam rising around them.

Joe is drowsy with post-orgasm and warmth, totally sated and content. Nick’s stroking Joe’s back lazily, nose buried in Joe’s damp hair and Joe lets his eyes fall shut.

“I’m just gonna sleep here,” he says. “Just a little bit.”

“Hmm? No, you can’t, if you fall asleep I’ll fall asleep and we’ll both drown.” Nick argues, but there’s not a lot of conviction in his voice and Joe suspects he’s just as fucked out as Joe is.

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

“I’m not.”

Joe groans and tangles his fingers in Nick’s dogtags where they rest against his chest. “But. I’m so comfy and you’re so warm. Drowning is totally worth the risk.”

He tries to stretch his legs but finds that one has fallen asleep on him, tingling with pins and needles when he tries to move, and Joe whines dramatically. “And I’m broken, remember? Broooken.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“All your fault, you insatiable beast.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who teased me all day and turned me into one.” Nick laughs, chest rumbling under Joe’s cheek. “If I’m an insatiable beast, what does that make you?”

Joe yawns. “Yours.”

Nick’s thumb rubs over the bruise blooming on Joe’s collarbone. “Damn right.”

“Niiiiicky. Stop it, I’m broken.” Despite his words, Joe hisses and arches into the pressure of Nick’s hand. Nick laughs again. “Slut,” he says affectionately.

“Beast.”

“Tease.”

“Whatever, shh. Sleeping.”

Nick kisses his hair and Joe closes his eyes again, letting the hot water wash over him like a blanket, soothing.

 

 

 

Joe towels Nick down first, rubbing the fluffy white fabric over Nick’s damp skin and through Nick’s messy curls, then lazes against the wall, eyelids heavy, as Nick returns the favour. His breath hitches every time Nick hits a sensitive spot but he hums happily. “Mmm, it’s a good thing I love you. Since you broke me.”

“You’re never going to let this go, are you?” Nick asks, looking up from where he’s drying off Joe’s left leg.

Joe grins. “Never,” he makes grabby hands at Nick. “Come ‘ere.”

Nick stands, wrapping the towel neatly around Joe’s waist. “What? And don’t tell me you’re broken.”

Joe lifts his arm and waves vaguely at his face. “Kisses and then bed…beast.”

Nick is rolling his eyes even as he obeys, pressing Joe up against the wall and kissing him slow and thorough.

Joe collapses into the bed after they’ve brushed their teeth and watches with one eye cracked open as Nick tries to clean up the mess they made of the dresser. There’s hotel stationary strewn all over the floor and a couple of decorative knick-knacks probably have a couple of cracks in them, not to mention the smashed lamp.

“Any idea how we’re going to explain this to front desk?”

Joe shrugs carelessly. “We’re rock stars, we break stuff.”

Joe gets distracted by the shifting of Nick’s back muscles above his boxers, the little dimples just above the curve of his ass. The red lines have faded away to flawless skin and Joe is surprised to find he kind of wishes they’d lasted longer. Joe is pretty sure Nick is still talking to him but it can’t be half as important as perving on his brother’s naked back.

“…tell Mom and Dad about the charges…Joe, eyes up here.”

“Wha?”

Nick turns towards him and Joe’s fixated on the hollow of Nick’s throat, the little beauty marks that dot the skin. He reaches up to press at his own collarbone, where Nick marked him. He bites his lip, and now Nick’s the one staring.

“It’s probably unhealthy how much I want you.” Nick says, shaking his head.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have me then,” Joe replies, and reaches out for Nick. “Come on, bedtime.”

He pokes and prods Nick onto his back so Joe can find his favourite comfy spot, head on Nick’s chest, palming Nick’s flat stomach. He usually throws his leg over Nick’s hip but his back twinges when he tries and he winces a little. “Broken,” he whinges, and knows the joke is long dead but it’s too much fun to wind Nick up. Nick curls his hand around Joe’s shoulder and anchors him to his body. “Oh, shut up, you could have stopped me.”

“Shh, sleep time.”

“I’m just saying, you brought this on yourself, Mr. Takes Slutty Pictures Of Himself and Sends Them To Unsuspecting Brothers While They’re Trying To Work.”

Joe flails a hand up towards Nick’s face, intent on shushing him, but Nick catches his hand and kisses Joe’s fingers. “Goodnight, Joe."

"Goodnight, Nick."

 

 

Joe’s not a girl, he thinks to himself as he begins to drift into sleep. He’s not, he never will be, and that’s still going to sting from time to time. He’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to figure out exactly who he is and learning how to be comfortable with it, and that’s going to be hard.

Joe understands, now, that the journey he embarked on the first day he slipped on his mother’s skirt is one that’s never going to end, not for his whole life, and there’s going to be detours and crashes and standstills along the way.

The thing is, Joe thinks, that it’s not about how you look or how people see you, it’s how you _feel_. He may look like a boy and the fans and the public and everyone else out there may see him as one, but in his heart, Joe feels like a girl. In this moment, tonight, he feels like _Nick’s_ girl. Small in Nick’s arms, with Nick’s fingers tangled in his long hair, with Nick’s mark on his neck and the gentle weight of the necklace Nick gave him always resting over Joe’s heart, Joe feels like Nick’s girl.

And it’s enough.

It’s enough.

 

**fin.**

 

 


End file.
